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Humor May 2018

Gray Matter

Do I Have VPL?

By Jody Lebel

This might be a good time to say I’m in favor of VPL. I want people to know I’m wearing panties. I’m a good Catholic girl, a GCG, and GCGs wear panties. I want my P to be V. I want all my under stuff to be V. I’d like to go on record saying that my P is always V. 

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When I finally did get it on, it held everything in all right but I looked like a tube of dough stuffed in a paper towel tube. I had no shape at all in the middle, unless you call a can of corn shapely – and there seemed to be muffins sticking out at the top and bottom.

Something strange is going in the women’s undergarment industry and I want to nip it in the butt. Sorry, couldn’t resist.

Last year I joined Act 2 Community Theater, an acting/singing group that puts on shows for the seniors in our area, as I discovered I can actually sing fairly well. Good enough anyway so that the audience knows what song I’m doing.

This group puts on the type of shows that require costumes. Kitty, the director, advised me to go get some control shapewear and a pair of panty hose. That way, she assured me, I’d be slippery and the clothes will go on and off fast. Frankly, I’ve never had to worry about my clothes going on or coming off fast. Even in college. But I digress. Control shapewear? What the heck is that? Basically it’s a full-body girdle. Remember girdles? They’re back but they’ve morphed into something evil.

The full-body shapewear package said this one garment will reduce and shape the stomach, waist, thighs, torso, and butt. That’s a lot of shaping, folks. It went on to say the shapewear creates a full body effect so you never have VPL. Good lord, I don’t want VPL! Do I? Okay, what is VPL? I Googled it. Oh, it’s visible panty lines. This might be a good time to say I’m in favor of VPL. I want people to know I’m wearing panties. I’m a good Catholic girl, a GCG, and GCGs wear panties. I want my P to be V. I want all my under stuff to be V. I’d like to go on record saying that my P is always V.

Then I went on the search for panty hose. I didn’t even know they made panty hose anymore. For your information they’re way in the back of the store in a dusty little corner on the bottom shelf.

Good thing I remembered how to put on panty hose from high school. I stripped down to my B and P – bra and panties –  preparing to put on both of these miracle garments that were going to make me look fabulous in my tight costumes. Now, the trick to putting on pantyhose is to gather up each leg to the toes and then bring your foot up about waist high and stick your foot – oops.

Problem. I can’t get my foot up past my knee. I tried bending down and sticking my foot in there, but I got woozy pretty fast and actually saw stars. I tried sitting in a chair but still no luck. I tried laying on the bed and finally after a lot of rolling around and tugging and a little bit of cursing, I got the darn things on. Boy, were they tight. Were they always that tight? Why did my waist feel like it was being cinched by a medieval corset? And where did that roll of fat come from that was now around my waist like a life preserver? Not to worry, I told myself, it will be smoothed out by the shapewear.

The shapewear came out of the package looking alarmingly small. Like my dog could wear it. According to the package, you just “step into it.” Sounded simple. I put my feet in and started to pull upward. Let me tell you, even a hydraulic lift wouldn’t have helped. I pulled and tugged and jumped around. It was exhausting. It was sort of like putting a tight tourniquet onto your body from the knees up.

When I finally did get it on, it held everything in all right but I looked like a tube of dough stuffed in a paper towel tube. I had no shape at all in the middle, unless you call a can of corn shapely – and there seemed to be muffins sticking out at the top and bottom. From the front I looked like a boy and from the back instead of having shapely buttocks I had buttock. But gosh darn it my P wasn’t V as promised.

One good side effect though is that all my fat got shoved upward and now I had size 44D bazookas. Now I’m going to have to go out and buy a larger bra. Later when I checked online I found that all the new bras promise that there will be no VBL, no visible bra line. Now here’s another area where I don’t mind if my BL is V.

Anyhoo, now that I was all squished in and had gotten my breath back – I had to pee. I sat down and cried. No, really. I did. It came off easier than it went on, but not by much. The second time I had to pull everything up and jiggle around and jump up and down and tuck in and lift my left leg over my head (slight exaggeration), things went a wee (no pun intended) bit better. Not good. But better.

So the bottom line is that it worked; my costumes slid off, almost at a recklessly fast rate, and I was always on time for my numbers. And not once did I hear anyone in the audience say my B was V, nor did they comment on my P. I guess Kitty was right after all.

 

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