My mom calls them Pull-in panties. Also known in my circle as Bridget’s Jones’ knickers. You know the ones? The ones you buy from Edgars and the Woolworth. They come in magnificent shades of white, beige or black. You get medium support or maxi support. I buy the maxi support. My mom actually asked me why I didn’t wear pull-in panties the other day. The cheek of it? I answered back in a very clipped tone that I fucking was! (I think I might have skipped out the effing part).
My best form of torture is to wear the Pull-in cycling shorts. I’m not talking about the ones you buy from Verimark. Those are a breeze compared to the pugnacious pair I own. Mine are beige. Have the thickness and feel of flexible canvas. John has to leave the bedroom and may not observe the agonising procedure of me …..um…slipping them on. Ha ha…slipping is a joke, it’s more like me wrangling and trying to put a 5kg polony into a vienna sausage casing. It involves grimacing, squeezing, lots of talcum powder for easier lubrication and a few beads of perspiration on my forehead. And when I finally have them on…I snap the waistband in jubilation, wipe my brow and slowly run my hands over my smoother bum and thighs!
They definitely make a difference. One can’t breathe or eat in them or wear them when it’s too hot but they definitely… make a difference….