Friday, 10 December 2010

Memories are Made of This

I made a memory this week. A really good one. Stomach hurting laughter with a friend of FORTY YEARS!!
Can't really beat that in my book.
On Wednesday, with reluctance in my very bones, owing to 'end of term'itis' I traipsed up to London to join a group of 'Old Girl's' (makes us sound like Enid Blyton caricatures) to sing in a Carol Service in Chelsea.
Practised our songs (a rather jolly Benjamin Britton piece that had us quaking with fear at first, but boy, we nailed the bugger and sang it like angels)
Anyway.
That church was so cold that we turned shades of deepest blue right through to dark, attractive purple.
Trying valiantly to stop shivering in the Extreme Old Church Temperatures.
Minus 3 outside.
Minus 3 inside.
And so it was, that during our Free Time between 5 o'clock and 6.30 that my friend and I tipped off to Peter Jones to find Hot Chocolate and Warm Underwear. In that order.
Gratefully shoved Hot Chocolate down our throats, chatting nineteen to the dozen, joined by my sister, who had come to watch us rehearse, wearing a very sensible and enormous Fur Hat. We were all rather envious.
Anyway, drinks done, my Sis departed off out to celebrate her Eldest Boy's birthday, and Henrietta and I made a beeline for the Lingerie Department.
May I just say that I bumped into no less than 7 friends, all having tea in Peter Jones. Couldn't blinking believe it. Lots of numbers exchanged and hugs galore amongst the genteel Tea Drinkers of Chelsea.
Anyway.
Lingerie.
Found, to our delight, a garment named Hide All The Disgusting Flab (or something) which was dangling delectably, all ready for us to Purchase. We grabbed a couple, plus some thermals, and legged it to the changing room.
'Sod it, let's share,' said Henrietta.
So we did, stripping off down to bra and pants, and whipping on our new Flabless Tops.
Bloody hell.
Got stuck.
Well and truly.
Henrietta had to stop putting hers on, to help me squidge myself, red in the face from exertion, into the Impossibly Tight Top.
'Good Grief, there is absolutely No Room for my bosoms,' I gasped.
Couldn't breathe.
Henrietta, by now into hers, was howling with mirth at my figure which now looked as if I had about eight breasts. Bosom was so squashed it had flattened my considerable Boobs into every Nook and Cranny of this Extraordinary Top.
With her help, we managed, between the howls, to rearrange my bosoms into their rightful places.
I turned sideways.
I appeared to be totally flat chested.
Crikey, I said.
But shoved on my White Linen Top, to go with Black Linen Trousers, de rigeur for any choir member.
Ripped off the price label of new purchase, and happened to look at it.
Chuffing Hell. £54.00!!
For a scrap of Python Strength White Lycra.
We looked at each other in disbelief.
Firstly, for the price, and secondly for the fact that we would have to Remove The Sodding Buggers. No way were we spending £54 on THAT.
'Right. You first,' ordered Henrietta.
I obediently took off my White Linen Top and tried to remove the Python Top.
Couldn't get it past my navel.
Stuck.
Completely.
Oh, Christ.
Henrietta had to have a moment to recover, as she was by this time totally beside herself in mirth. (May I just say that she does laugh Quite Loudly. As do I. A little concerned at this point about being overheard by other Matrons of Chelsea.)
But I was so deep in midst of giggle-fits that wouldn't have given a damn if the Queen herself was trying on a Spandex Lycra Bustier in the next cubicle.
I put my arms up in the air, and Henrietta pulled and pulled, with helpful comments like,
'Lean against the wall, and let me yank it off,'
and
'Christ, one of your boobs has got stuck in the hem-line,' sort of thing.
(There were rather a lot of people Lurking as we emerged. I think that perhaps they were an Audience of sorts.)
She got it off. It took several minutes, as we kept having to stop to get our breath back, owing to being completely out of control Laughter Wise.
And then I had to get hers off.
Easier, owing to less in the Bosom Department.
But still quite Tricky when weak with laughter.
All done.
We shoved on our Thermals (bliss) and got dressed all over again.
I think we carried on laughing for about an hour.
No sooner than one of us had stopped, the other started.
And we told everyone back at the Ice Church what we had been up to.
Funnily enough, no one found it particularly funny.
They were all too busy lifting up our shirts and the hem of our trousers to check out the Thermals.
Boy, they were green with envy.
Which went awfully well with Purple with Cold.
Poor bastards.
Us?
We were Just Fine, thanks!

12 comments:

Vicus Scurra said...

My browser seems to have lost the link to the video. Please remedy this.

Ladybird World Mother said...

!! will post it forthwith. Hope you don't mind the rather frightening close ups. Make sure that there are no vulnerable people watching. x

London City Mum said...

Brilliant.

Now I know what all the noise was.

LCM x

TheMadHouse said...

No vid here either. Oh and I do thermals, but not control wear, it is a torture device

Pam said...

Brilliant! I can just picture it. Whenever we go swimming I have the same trouble taking my swimming top off - my husband has to wrestle me out of it. It's most undignified!

Midlife Jobhunter said...

I'm laughing. So easily I picture you both tugging and pulling and laughing. Enjoyed this.

Tatersmama said...

Thanks to you, with all the BWAhaha-ing and *snorting* going on, I just woke my sleeping child... As well as some flabby un-used muscles buried somewhere in my disgustingly unfettered midrif.

Enclosed is £54.00. Please send unwanted "Hide All The Disgusting Flab" garment immediately.

Expat mum said...

OMG - my 7 year old is practising piano right behind me and I have tears rolling down my face. Hilarious. Question tho- (always of utter impartance to me) did you have a flat tum?

Ladybird World Mother said...

LCM - Yup, that was us. Come and join us next time, we can try on all in one control wear. We'll never emerge, I suspect. x
Madhouse - too right. Control wear indeed...WHO DESIGNS IT??!!x
Pam - dignity indeed goes out of the window, eh. Thank GOD for humour!! x
MJ - laughing WITH, I hope, not AT!! Oh, go on, then, just laugh. I don't care anymore. Dignity long gone. x
Tatersmama - sending it immediately. Please be aware of health warnings attached. 'Must have adult to prise body from said garment after use.'
Otherwise enjoy!! xx
EM - Flat tum?? Every muscle, bone, ligament was squashed so tight that had flat everything. Even teeth.xx

grumpyoldwoman said...

You should have gone to Primark - I got a similar garment in a fetching shocking pink with a lacey top that didnt flatten my miniscule boobs but DID flatten my somewhat larger tummy. Price? £3.50. You have to know where to shop!

Clippy Mat said...

brilliant. thanks for the laughter.
;-)

JESSICA RENSHAW said...

I keep laughing helplessly. Finally my husband says, "Feel free to share." "Well, she's English," I gasp, "so I love the way she expresses things--" "Yes?" he says politely. "And it's cold and she and a friend have gone to this store--" I break down again. "--for hot chocolate and warm underwear--" He's waiting for the funny part. "--STUCK in the underwear!" I'm wiping my eyes but I can't stop laughing to explain. "Stuck in the underwear?" He waits. I dissolve. I can't go on. It's too funny. I think it has to do with our being beyond child-raising. We're into grandchildren here. When the kids left I lost 10 pounds and 10 years and won back my sanity. There is hope ahead for you--but in the meantime, keeping other people in stitches is a wonderful privilege and calling, don't you think?