I should begin by saying that I do in fact wear a foundation layer… when I ski. I call them long johns.
That’s not the type of foundation layer I’m talking about. I’m referring to the undergarments that have cute names to describe themselves. They look as though they can stand up by without assistance. They are typically skin toned and they are, bar none, the least sexy thing you have ever seen in your life. So I guess that will be reason number one why I don’t wear foundation layer.
I tried a top on once made by the same company. The top itself was cute enough, hot pink, long line strapless number with ruching and a built in bra shelf.
Once in the change room, I stepped into the piece. I quickly discovered that it was made of the same iron maiden like material as the foundation pieces by that cutesy named company. I do not exaggerate when I say that I have never jumped around, wiggled and jiggled more to get myself into a piece of clothing. I actually broke a sweat, and may have done a little damage to my left rotator cuff in the process.
Once adjusted, ruching evenly (and may I say flatteringly) arranged, I admired my reflection in the change room mirror. Not bad I thought. Good color, interesting fit over the hips. Quick spin, glance over the shoulder. ACK! What the hell was that on my back? I do NOT have back boobs! I pride myself on the muscle development in my back. My trainer tells me regularly how well defined my back is. What was happening?
What was happening was my second reason for not wearing foundation layer. It’s a bit like what happens when you squeeze the center of an uncooked sausage. Picture it. Seriously. The stuff has to go somewhere right? It’s not like you put on this miracle piece of reinforced steel and suddenly you’re tight and lean. No. It simply pushes it around. Its got to pop out somewhere.
So here’s the thing. If my back is muscled with little overlying fat, and it squishes up and out, what must happen to slightly fleshier backs (or tummies, thighs and butts for that matter) that are compacted into this garment?
Which brings me to the final reason in my argument against this oppressive lingerie. Once I had finished marveling at how horrible this thing made my back look, I realized that it was giving me the worst belly ache I had ever had short of labor pains. You simply cannot squeeze something that aggressively without a negative outcome.
So next time you consider purchasing a piece from the company with the somewhat bondage and S&M reminiscent name, consider a few more crunches instead.
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