Right From The Start

Part One

By Claire Hennessy

The hilarious, heartwarming, true story of how two High School sweethearts
are reunited after a 30 year separation, only to find themselves on opposite sides
of the world.
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 Chapter Fourteen – Bridget Jones Pants

Eventually it became unbearable. We had to meet. My impatience

rose up like the monster it was and began demanding satisfaction.
After much discussion and with some trepidation (because what if
there was no chemistry?) Bug rearranged his busy work schedule,
organized his family commitments and booked an airline ticket. His
parents were elderly and he wanted to see his Father who was quite
ill, and he combined a long overdue visit to them, with a chance for
the two of us to meet and see if what we had was real and worth
pursuing.

Thus began a period of utter panic for me! What I had longed for and
dreamed about was now going to become a reality. Oh shit!
Suddenly I was terrified. I looked down at my forty-something, out-
of-shape menopausal body and admitted that it was in need of some
serious help. I opened my underwear drawer and pulled out one
disgusting, Bridget Jones-sized pair of Big Pants after another.
Nothing was remotely sexy or appealing. My old baggy bras were not
fit for the strenuous task of holding up my enormous, saggy boobs
and a critical examination in front of my mirror confirmed my worst
fears. There was just one large mass of wobbly flesh rather than two
perky and firm breasts.

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One of the reasons for my terrible underwear was that purchasing
new lingerie was such an embarrassing and difficult task. Most bras
were either too flimsy and lightweight, or were so big and ugly they
looked more like old-fashioned corsets, or the underwire dug into my
armpits like a medieval instrument of torture. Memories of being
teased mercilessly at school when friends had discovered me wearing
my first bra also still haunted me. But, with the date of Bug’s visit fast
approaching, I could no longer put off this daunting task.

So, with some hastily found courage in one hand and my trusty credit
card in the other, I ventured out into the terrifying world of ‘Intimate
Ladies Apparel’.

And what a fucking nightmare it was!

From start to finish, it was worse that I had anticipated. Nowhere had
bras to fit ‘Madam’s fuller figure’ as one assistant so delicately put it.
There were either gorgeous, delicate bras to suit skinny bitches with
boob jobs, or monstrous over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders for the
matronly woman who was certainly not expecting to have any
‘how’s-your-Father’ whilst wearing one.

I travelled further afield as desperation set in, each excursion cutting

into my already precarious self-esteem, as slim shop assistants
scathingly pointed out they had nothing in my size. Humiliated,
thinking I would have to tell Bug not to come and make up a story
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about contracting some hideous contagious disease, I stumbled into
what I can only describe as The Best Little Lingerie Store In England!
I think the owner of this store was actually an Angel sent down from
Heaven to help me. She was sweet and kind and knowledgeable. She
found me a beautiful lacey bra which actually fitted and made me
feel proud of my ‘assets’ and want to show them off for the first time
in my life.

She then suggested that my flabby, untoned body might look good in
a pair of French-style panties, rather than sliced in half by those
awful g-strings which just disappeared in for lunch never to be seen
again. Even my fleshy cellulite bottom seemed a little more appealing
when covered with the delicate silk and lace. I wanted to fall to the
ground and kiss her feet but managed to restrain myself and just
thanked her profusely.

I must admit to feeling a bit of a slut, as it was obvious I was buying

all these items with the express intent of seducing Bug, something I
had never done quite so blatantly before. Bless her, she was just
enthralled by the whole high-school-sweetheart thing and made me
promise to tell her the outcome of our first meeting and if he
approved of my new lingerie.

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How could he not, I asked myself, experiencing the first flutter of
excitement since viewing my underwear drawer. Why, even Bridget
Jones would be delighted.