ManFriend and I went to a wedding on the weekend. And we have another one this weekend, which ends our eight-weeks-in-a-row of weddings, hens and bucks parties.
When I tell women about all these weddings we go to – about five a year for the last four years, and six this year since August – their first question is, “have you been able to wear the same dress to them all, or is the same group of friends getting married?”. Isn’t it funny that men can – and do – wear the same suit to every wedding, but women tend to wear different outfits? I don’t have any outrage or theory about this. It’s none of my business what people spend their money on. Besides, I quite like frocking up for a wedding. It means I can wear my second-hand dresses from the 50s-80s that are a little too fabulous for everday wear. In my experience, the cheaper the dress the more compliments you’ll get. Oh, I did wear trousers to Lexy and SuperDik’s 1920s garden party wedding: grey men’s trousers, white shirt, white tuxedo waistcoat and black bow tie. All second-hand bargains with the original tags still attached, for a grand total of $31. (Lawandshoes will hate this, but I’ve only got one pair of wedding shoes, which are black and, in my mind at least, go with everything.)
So, for the last wedding of the year, I want to wear something a little bit special. It’s another second-hand find and is simply gorgeous:
It’s made from that thick, structured satin that you just don’t seem to find anymore.
But it’s a bit tight and I’m worried I’ll split a seam when I sit down. So I went to see if a body-wrangling control garment made any difference. It didn’t, but the experience was educational. This is what I learned:
* Some control garments you can get into by yourself, but require two (sober) people to get out of.
* Some have little slits in the crotch so you can go to the toilet without struggling out of them. However, you do need to use both hands to pull the fabric out of the way and frankly, I fail to see how you could do this without pissing on your fingers.
* If you just want to suck your belly in a little, there’s a band of stretchy fabric you can wear around your middle. But be warned, it will roll in on itself the minute you sit down and can only be fixed by a trip to the bathroom to hoik up your dress.
* Sadly, designers are yet to come up with a garment that squishes the fat from your arse up into the boob area.
* There’s nothing wrong with bumps on your body. How did we willingly get back into corsets for non-kinky reasons?
I know slim women who wear control garments so their bodies look completely smooth, like they’ve been airbrushed. Don’t get me wrong, that’s their business and I’m not about to tell people what they can and cannot wear. But how did it become so normal to wear something so uncomfortable, that no one else can see, because of this idea that bodies look better when they don’t look like bodies? I wore one of those waist cinchers to a freakin’ bbq the other day. A bbq for fuck’s sake. Who have I become?