We are all familiar with the parable of the wise man who built his house upon the rock from the Gospel of Matthew. The rock in the story is, of course, the teachings of Jesus.
But ladies, I’m here to tell you that this principle applies to many things, chief among them fashion.
Just as the foolish man cannot build his house upon the sand, a fashionable woman cannot build her house of style on a squishy, bulging, dimply underpinning.
That’s why the Lord gave us a firm foundation – foundation garments, that is!
Yes, I’m talking about girdles, longline brassieres, slips and the like.
Did you ever wonder why Marilyn wasn’t beset by panty lines or why Ms. Taylor didn’t have a muffin top?
Foundation garments!
Were they comfortable? I doubt it. But they looked flawless.
Now, I will maintain until the day they press the toes of my pointy red high-heeled shoes down under the coffin lid that so-called “natural beauty” is as rare as hen’s teeth. It takes work to look naturally beautiful because most normal folks, when presented in all their glory, just are not. Sorry, y’all.
And I…well, I know I’m not a dewy teenager anymore. But I also know that I can make the most of the foundation the Good Lord gave me, which is what drove me to the lingerie section of the store this past weekend for just that – a foundation…garment.
You see, I have a sweater dress in my closet that has been taunting me. Taunting me, I say, because I am what you might call broad in the beam. Always have been. Always will be. No amount of squats, lunges, or other equally distasteful activity will ever change that. I’m good, country stock.
So, thought I, “if you can’t beat it, just mash it into compliance.” And I set out to find the firmest foundation I could upon which to build my sweater dress house.
I came home with an Assets’ Convertible Slip Dress. It had it all. Smoothing. Shaping. Slimming. I was in business.
Come Monday, I got up and commenced getting ready for the day. I worked my way into my convertible slip dress (and I’m here to tell you, there was work involved) but I eased into my sweater dress. I too was flawless. Not a line. Not a bulge. Not a dimple.
Well, my sisters, the convertible slip dress is all fine and dandy when you spend the day sitting at your desk. I did notice on a few trips to the coffee pot and the copier that the convertible slip dress was wont to creeping up a tee-ninecy little bit, but not so much that a discreet tug wouldn’t right it. And a little minor adjustment here and there is a small price to pay for looking sleek in a sweater dress.
It was not until I went to have lunch with my girlfriend that I noticed a slight issue with my convertible slip dress. While walking the block and a half from my parking place to the restaurant, I noticed more than just a tee-ninecy bit of creepage. My convertible slip dress was slowly but surely making its way north from my knees. The opportunity for a discreet tug did not present itself during the course of our lunch, and before I knew it, I was back out on the sidewalk making the trek back to my car.
With every step, my convertible slip dress was making a trek of its own…quickly. I was very hastily trying to make it to my car while taking teeny tiny steps so as not to encourage the seemingly unstoppable creepage. I made it all the way to the middle of 20th Street, to the very center of the busiest lunchtime intersection in all of Birmingham, when…FWOOP!
My convertible slip dress had made its way to the apex of my thunderous thighs and in a sudden and swift ascent rolled all the way up to my waist like a window shade gone wild leaving me in the middle of the street with an enormous bulge of spandex where my previously hourglass waist had been.
One mad dash to the car later, the hem found and restored to knee length, I was once again flawless in my sweater dress and a little bit wiser. You see, it does you no good to have a firm foundation if it is not anchored securely to the ground!
I was crossing 20th St on the hottest day of summer, a long-legged 24-yr old, thinking I’d fooled everyone by keeping cool with my finer-than-spidersilk, Victoria’s Secret, garter-free, thigh-high hose. That is, until the left one released itself and landed at my ankle, tangling in my high heel as I hurried out of sight. Thank goodness there weren’t camera phones yet!
A kindred spirit! Thank you for sharing your story…I’m glad I’m not alone!
My mother was a nurse, the white starched dress kinda nurse, not those you see today that go to work in their pj’s. Wearing a white starched dress required some “foundation”. There was many a day I listened to her swear as the foundaion was being installed. I think that she would have much rather went to work in her pj’s. I’m glad us boys don’t have to worry about such. As soon as I get home every day I take off my starched shirt & pants and put on my overalls & let the loose end drag! As for the broad beam, that may be what attraced your husband, don’t worry about it!
Boys have it so easy!!
I think most women have “been there, done that” at some point but don’t think I’ve ever heard it described in such a hilarious manner. Always look forward to your story for the week, you are a great writer!
Thank you very much!