Published: March 03, 2008 09:45 pm            

CATHIE SHAFFER: Scary girdle flashback

This one’s for the ladies:

Remember those terrible old girdles we forced ourselves into so our tummies looked flat?

My favorite aunt, now in her mid-80s, wouldn’t have been caught dead without her girdle. A nurse, she even wore one under her uniform because she was a lady and, by golly, real ladies wore girdles.

Those instruments of the devil were going out of favor when I was in high school. But since everything in our small town happened a decade later than in the rest of the civilized world, the righteous women of Ridgeville Corners were still girding themselves while the hippies in San Francisco were dancing in the streets.

I loved to go shopping in the city with my mother and aunt. Since my aunt didn’t drive, Mother would swing by and pick her up, and off we’d head to the bright lights of the downtown stores.

All the way from Auntie’s house to the fabulous department stores, we girls — seven of us all told — were sternly reminded of the consequences of poor behavior. We’d pile out of the car and follow our mothers into the store, where we would immediately beg to ride the escalator.

The escalator deposited us in Women’s Better Dresses, where my mother and aunt would compare styles and finger fabrics. It was the bargain basement, however, where they did their actual shopping.

My aunt often expressed the opinion that you could go a dress size smaller with a good girdle. She’d grab a few garments and head to the dressing room.

We girls stood in anticipation outside, waiting to see Auntie appear in the fashion du jour.

I will admit, those girdles of hers did flatten her stomach. Unfortunately, they also created a roll just above her waist, which she somehow managed to ignore as she looked at herself in the mirror.

It wasn’t nearly as much fun with my mother, who embraced the idea of comfort over size. If she had to hold her breath while someone else yanked up the zipper, she’d declare the dress too small and opt to go larger.

Auntie, on the other hand, would charge up to the lingerie department and order up a stiffer tummy flattener.

Over the years, as fashion rules relaxed, Auntie stowed her torturous undergarments in the back of her closet and went to what she called her “tummy controllers,” a lighter weight form of girdle. Next came control-top panty hose and finally, after she reached grandmothering days and wintering in Florida, she settled for plain white granny panties.

My decision to wear a skirt to church last week brought Auntie and her girdle obsession to mind. The only pantyhose in the house were an unfamiliar brand I’d grabbed at the store because they were on sale.

When I opened the package Sunday morning, what fell out looked smaller and shorter than my usual ones. I managed to get them on with a lot of wiggling, worrying and, finally, flopping down on the bed for a final tug — just like dear Auntie squishing herself into Old Ironsides.

CATHIE SHAFFER can be reached at cshaffer@dailyindependent.com or (606) 473-9812.

        

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