Our neighbor's son was getting married in 1971 at an out-of-town Catholic church, and my husband and I were invited. We immediately rushed out to the local department store, and I bought a nice pink linen dress with a jacket and all those cute dyed-to-match accessories. The dress was a little tight, but I had a month before the June 30 wedding and I would lose a few pounds.
June 29 came and, of course, I had not lost a single pound; in fact, I had gained two. But, I figured a nice new girdle would cure everything. So on our way out of the city, we stopped once again at the store. I ran in and told the clerk I needed a size large panty girdle.
The clerk found the box with the described girdle, marked "LG," and asked if I would like to try it on. "Oh, no, a large will fit just right. I won't need to try it on."
The next morning was one of those ninety-degree days, so I waited to get dressed until about forty-five minutes before time to go. I popped open the girdle box only to find a new, $49.95 satin-paneled girdle in a size small. Since it was too late to find another one and the dress wouldn't fit right without a girdle, a fight broke out in the hotel room between me and the girdle. Have you ever tried to shake twenty pounds of potatoes into a five-pound sack? Finally, my husband, laughing like crazy, got ahold of each side and shook me down into it. Once snug in my girdle, I put on all of the pink accessories, which did not go very well with my purple face, and I was ready to go.
All the way to the church my husband kept asking, "Are you alright? You look funny!" Then he would laugh. Men just do not appreciate what women go through to look good!
As we eased into the pew at the church, he asked if I could make it. Now, he was getting worried because I was breathing funny. I told him that I would be fine. Since we are Southern Baptist, and one of our wedding ceremonies takes thirty minutes or less, I assumed that this ceremony wouldn't last very long.
Seated in the pew with us were two little old ladies, who politely introduced themselves. Then, one of them said, "Isn't it just lovely, they are having a high mass."
"Oh, yes, lovely," I said, then turned to my husband and asked, "What is a high mass?" He shrugged his shoulders.
Unfortunately, I learned that this particular mass would last one hour, twenty-two minutes and eight-and-one-half seconds ~~ the priest blessed everything except my girdle!
Over on the left side of the church, the bride's mother was crying and over on our side, I was crying. One of the little old ladies elbowed the other and said, "Oh, look, she's so touched."
They were right ~~ I have never been so touched in my life!! My ankles were swelling, my knees were blue and my thighs had lost all feeling. My husband was fanning me with my pink accessories, asking questions and trying to comfort me.
As soon as the priest pronounced them married, and the wedding part made their way back up the aisle to exit the church, I bolted into position as the fifth "bridesmaid" with my husband right behind me, still asking me questions : "Are you ok?" "Can I help?" "Can you breathe?"
"Please, just get me out of here!" I gasped.
We hop-danced to our car across the parking lot, and once there he opened the front and back passenger doors against the next car. Right there, before God, mankind and the wedding party, I squeezed my bruised and battered body out of that girdle! Then, to my horror just as I lifted my foot to pull the elastic torture chamber off my body once and for all, the dumb girdle catapulted out of my hand and landed under the car next to ours. My husband was laughing so hard, he couldn't even bend over to try and retrieve it, and I was too miserable to care. So we just drove away.
Over the years, he and I often wondered what the parishioners of that fancy uptown church thought the next morning when they found an overly stretched $49.95 satin-paneled, size small girdle in their parking lot.
~~ Barbara D. Starkey ~~
1 comment:
Nice post.
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