The body shaper, the modern girdle, is one thing we 50+ women are told we absolutely need. Must. Not. Bulge. I've bought Spanx, Donna Karan, Flexees and a bunch of other brands, with hope and the fervent desire to Get It Together Under There.
I tug it on (gently... or there goes thirty bucks), and serve my self-inflicted sentence: every loathsome minute with crotch bifurcated, stomach straitjacketed and waist squished. If the temperature is above 70, I'm sweating in places my gyn says to keep dry.
Control-top pantyhose are less confining but provide minimal shaping, kind of a non-event- so I am happiest with no-line undies and a really good bra. What goes on between midriff and knees is my business.
Perhaps I could be sleeker... but in my darkest moments, I think the making shapers "an essential" is a plot to keep us bound, harnessed and contained.
I just spring-cleaned my archives, I mean, closet and drawers, and all those elastic sheaths went in the trash.