Doing the Nancy Ganz Dance

Nancy Ganz. A range of women’s shapewear, swimwear and plus size clothing is an ideal mix of comfort and style for all seasons.

Girls, we know what that means.

The suck-it-in underwear.

I’ve always been a bit slack when it comes to suck-it-in underwear. I’ll buy quality cotton knickers, take a good look and as long as there is no VPL (visible panty line) I’m good to go. However, recent months of eating out quite a lot has meant the scale has risen from a reasonably respectable number to the words GET OFF. And then to GET OFF. NOW.


I attended a charity event recently. It promised to be a pretty swish event, and being the well prepared girl that I am, I  had bought a rather pretty, girly fitted dress for the occasion.  I knew that no matter what undies I put on, VPL *was* going to be an issue  so, under advisement of a gorgeous  friend who is always well dressed and rather stunning, I set off to purchase the recommended undergarments. “Nancy Ganz”, she said, “are the ant’s pants”. And she patted her gorgeous little figure. “See?”

Next thing I know, I am standing in the change room trying to wriggle myself into iron clad elastic.

So, let’s take a minute to discuss Nancy Ganz versus control underwear.

Nancy Ganz are no ordinary undergarments.

They are not for the faint of heart.

These are the Iron Lady of underwear.  The resistance in the elastic in these is akin to bench pressing twice your bodyweight with equal back pressure. Have you ever tried to force cat jaws open in order to get one to take medication?  Yeah, that. Include the scratching and writhing.

The bottom of the pant starts  just on the lower thigh. The top ends somewhere up high and although this image doesn’t show it, to avoid a muffin top under the bra roll you  are supposed to tuck the top of the elastic tube under the bra strap.

The overall effect is mean to make you look like this.

Pretty impressive, huh?

On the big night, I don my pretty new dress, add some sparklies, apply war paint and tame the locks. And heading out the door, I give one quick, last look in the mirror to make sure that everything is where it should be. Yes, indeed – smug as a mug in a fug, I slip on my dancing shoes and head out with my new bestie, Nancy.

Nancy and I had a fine old time settling in, sipping champagne cocktails and supping on canapés. Oh, how we glided gracefully through the first hour, confident and secure.  And as long as I didn’t try any sudden bending, all was wonderful. And  all that sipping and supping leads to a wonderful little champagne buzz which leads to more champagne which eventually leads to a rather pressing need to.. well.. excuse oneself to powder one’s nose.

And here I learned yet another lesson in fashion.

Getting them on, at home, in the comfort of your bedroom is one thing.

Getting them OFF, or at least down to your ankles, and then back UP again, in a cubicle space the size of a telephone booth, is another.  With one leg braced on the loo, my back pressed up against the door and my handbag between my teeth me and Nancy inched our way precariously past last week’s pasta, November’s cheesecake and last October’s dalliance with a Camembert wheel and some Prosecco.  When we got to the point of reaching the 40+ something aging milk ducts, we realised we needed to powder our nose again.  Have ever tried to tuck something under the back of your bra strap without assistance? Whilst tipsy? And on heels?
Good luck with that.  Let me just say, I was no longer looking – or feeling – very glamorous.

Which is why I may – or may not – have spent the rest of the evening commando style.

I’ll never tell.

21 thoughts on “Doing the Nancy Ganz Dance

  1. I have always been suspicious of anything that claims to take my Rubenesque curves and make them more sylph-like. Add to that a kidney condition that makes using the bathroom a near-emergency situation the moment my brain registers that I need to go…and..well…so much for the slinky-lovely stuff. I have to be content with the gathers and pleats, and be thankful I was invited. Spanx (the USA version of what you’re talking about) at least come with an open crotch, which is actually no good because I’ve never heard of a woman who needed Spanx that could pee in a controlled manner.

  2. ROTFLMAO!!!! I would have gone commando from the start!

    I have paid a LOT of money for similar garments only to regret it. I reckon my Rubenesqueness looks better unfettered and with its own natural drape and flow, than stuffed and bolstered further north than nature intended. I HATE looking like a barrel of flesh.

    Lesley is right – these articles could be syndicated <3

  3. Very funny! As one who battles constantly with my weight (actually, I lie. It wins. I have surrendered all of my dignity) I can understand how you feel.

    But I would never have purchased any garments whose advertisement includes the woman in the picture above. Look at her legs. They don’t look like touch at the knees and all the way to the thighs. Look at her boobs. They don’t spill over the edges of the bra, nor do they have cousins living with them who reside under the arms and I bet the back cousin’s residence is vacant as well. Look at those arms. No bingo bat’s wings there.

    The worst thing about going out thinking you look great (despite your size) is when some well-meaning person shows you a photo of yourself.

    Many outfits have met their demise under those circumstances.

  4. Oh my – I have clothing that has emulated this. Do you remember body suits? (Of course you do if you are in the 38-57 demographic) Do you know I only found out recently that some smart women learned how to hoik to the side for the bathroom rather than try to clip and unclip? Yeah, that would have been handy.

    Gorgeous imagery at work in this post – I love it!

  5. Thank you so very much for wearing that horrible underwear so we could all laugh until we choked on our coffee. I own one things similar to this, saved for extreme emergencies. Like visiting my mother-in-law.

  6. OMG … and ROLFLMAO … Afraid I am a ‘bumps and all’ kinda gal. Mental images will stay with me for some time! And then ‘hoiking to side’ from my sister made me choke my coffee!!

  7. Oh gosh!!! And now they’re trying to get men into these things. I always have to wonder where the excess ahem “bulk” goes?! It’s still there, just pushed somewhere else?! Love the final graphic. I can only imagine that’s how it feels..

    1. If they could figure a way to push all my bulk to my bust line, that would be an awesome thing. I’d be quite a fine figure of a woman. Although I am not quite sure what I’d do with a navel square in the middle of all that delightful cleavage.

  8. Ha! Thank you for your candor! Reminds me of a moment I had in a fitting cubicle when I was 9 months pregnant and trying to put on some pantyhose! ROFL!

  9. PS, after eating out (or stuffing oneself senseless) for months on end, those squash-you-up undergarments really do make you feel rather svelte!

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