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Please Release Me by bernadette noll Speaking of underwear, check out Emma Taylor's plea In Defense of the Wonderbra.

Last Monday morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table in flip-flops, easing into the day with a coffee and the local paper. And then all of sudden I was wide awake and staring at a full-page ad for women's girdles. Not girdles as in sexy fun lingerie, but real fifties-style, full-body, knee-to-breast, hold-the-flab girdles. I choked on my coffee and pushed the ad in front of my husband. "Look at this!" I exclaimed. "Who would wear this? How would you like to get intimate with somebody wearing this?" We agreed that being either the witness or the wearer of such a garment would cause great discomfort. "I'd be a bit concerned about a woman who wore that," my husband said. "I'd wonder what else she was hiding from me." He imagined a sexy scene in which he finally got to the undressing, only to discover a mile or more of buttons and clasps. "I always had enough trouble with the bra clasps." With that he was off to work and I was left alone. This is usually when I move to the living room/office to draw and write, but this day I sat and stared at the gigantic ad for gigantic girdles. It bugged me. It baffled me. But it also stoked my curiosity. I couldn't believe that in 1996, over twenty years after the proverbial bras were burned, women were once again suffering and sweating in these contraptions. I may not be the best judge of women's lingerie fashions -- I wear overalls as a way of not having to don a bra -- but I do know what is comfortable. I sat down to work but still my mind was on those girdles. What do they say about a woman's role today? What do they say about what we have to say? Are we not worth as much if we have a belly or breasts that don't protrude as bullets? Aren't we over that? I conducted a survey among my friends. The results were overwhelmingly, thankfully, convincing that yes, we are over that. In fact every woman I questioned responded with a resounding "I would never wear that!" At a coffee gathering the girdle diatribe progressed to a discussion of women's bodies in general. I looked around the table at our various shapes and sizes. One woman in a sports bra and shorts with a less than model-like -- though beautiful nonetheless -- tanned belly exposed to all. My bra-less breasts, giving into gravity with each passing year, feignly disguised by my bib overalls. Another woman in a tank top stuffed with paper towels to blot the milk which was just beginning to seep. And so on around the table we hung out. And then I try to picture the table around which the girdle was designed. Was there a woman at the table? If there was, I need to meet her and find out if she wears one. If she does, I want to know why. If she doesn't, I have quite a few more questions for her. "Where's your sense of sisterhood? Where's your common sense? How could you violate the battle which has been fought for so many years?" Not to mention, "How the heck do you go to the bathroom in that thing?" I looked up the word girdle in the dictionary. There were four definitions, the last one being about girdling a tree. "A band made around the trunk of a tree by the removal of a strip of bark, usually in order to kill it." If you know a woman who has given in to the fashion world by encircling herself with a too-tight piece of elastic, stop her. Do her a favor and gather her with a bunch of other women. Show her that it is a rare woman indeed who holds the Barbie physique. Sing to her the chorus of "Please Release Me Let Me Go," and don't stop until she lets it all hang out. Speaking of underwear, check out Emma Taylor's plea In Defense of the Wonderbra. Bernadette Noll is a freelance writer based in Austin, Texas. On being a full-time writer, she says, "My life is forever colored by ten years in the restaurant business. It's always in the back of my mind that there is only one letter difference between writer and waiter." © 1996 Tripod, Inc. All Rights Reserved.