Do you remember girdles? I sure do.
How unpleasant was that? I remember thinking how grown-up I had become as I shoved my not-so-svelte torso into that medieval instrument of torture. You know what?
They're back ladies. Oprah calls them "Spanx" but I'm no fool, I know what they are. I think we should rise up and revolt.
First it was visible panti-lines, then the "muffin-top" became the "sin du jour". What the heck?
I don't know about you, but the fact is, ladies, I ooze. I would love to be able to say that my rear view is one without any bulges or bumps, but it's not so. My receding form is more like the rolling hills of Ireland. Oh Danny boy. I give up.
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