USA Today has published the results of a study demonstrating that wearing ugly knickers can bring you down. Of course my mind jumped instantly to garments.
I hated wearing garments. I remember thinking that the most enormous of granny panties had nothing on these bunchy undergarments left over from an era when long johns were necessary under a corset. I obediently wore my bra over the tops, remembering the fearsome warning given to me by the temple matron about the terrible fate that awaited new brides who dared to let something come between their skin and the garment of the holy priesthood.
I made it about a week after my endowment before I started sneaking out of them at every opportunity. Lingering in workout clothing was always a good trick. Eventually I settled on just wearing the top and allowing myself to wear pretty knickers below. That way Mormons, who constantly scan for the “g-line”, would see the necessary imprint of the Salt-Lake sanctioned trim beneath my shirt and I would remain in their good graces. I remember the first time my mother hugged me and noticed that there were no garments beneath. A very awkward couple of weeks followed.
Garments are regarded by Mormons as a sort of talisman, a lucky rabbit’s foot that shields the wearer from poison ivy, knife wounds, bullets, and hot sex. I never got a special feeling from them. They just made it impossible for me to wear anything fashionable or comfortable, because even in jeans and a t-shirt they bunch up and need constant adjusting. I got odd looks at the gym unless I retreated to a toilet stall to change. I had to bypass tops that would have been flattering on me and perfectly appropriate for work, but just didn’t work with garments. The first time I stepped out into public wearing a sleeveless top and felt the wind on my shoulders I felt so . . . normal. Not peculiar. It was exhilarating.
Yes, ugly knickers ruin my day. But not any more.
Molly Muses . . . 
I did the same thing. I’d linger in my swim suit after being at the pool etc. and invariably some Mormon would drop by, notice my garmentless state and issue a shocked look. I remember one time I was sitting on a towel at a picnic with a bunch of Relief Society ladies. One of the women reached over and pulled up the leg of another woman’s shorts to be sure she was wearing her g’s. I instinctively held onto the hem of my skirt because I was wearing NORMAL underwear. (We lived in TX at the time and it was ridiculously hot in the summer.)
Strange as it sounds, I continue to be grateful that I am now allowed to choose my own underwear!
It’s not strange at all! Nothing is better proof of the obsession with control than the idea that the church even has to know what is right up against your privates.
I also attempted to wear them for only a few days after I went through the temple before getting married. It just felt too ridiculous. They were torture. I still have a few pairs of G’s lying around (my husband made me throw away the rest…I guess I wanted to keep a couple ‘just in case’?), but looking at them makes me feel sick inside. They symbolize exactly what I dislike about the church. The one good thing about garments is they sure make me appreciate and love my Hanes hipsters. I will never take my comfortable panties for granted, ever again.
That’s a good point; I, too, have a (possibly inappropriate) attachment to Hanes. The concept of comfortable underwear is really…so miraculous seeming. I recently went out and purchased more underwear that actually fits, and I was practically giggly over it.
My watershed moment re: garments was when I saw a friend of mine putting her lacy bra, and really too-sexy-for-daytime fishnets on over her G’s. Previous to this moment, I’d thought of garments as more like an undershirt: you put it on over your bra, knickers, etc. I had absolutely no idea that modern women who shopped at Victoria’s Secret engaged in this ridiculous behavior. Really and truly, I’d imagined this bizarrely ritualistic behavior had gone the way of the dodo with, you know, the American Civil War.
I went nearly 29 years conscientiously wearing those baggy white things. Is it any wonder I’ve developed somewhat of an underwear fettish now? I’ve accumulated a drawer full of various styles, colors and fabrics. Sadly, my shoulders are past their prime and are too blindingly white to ever show in public.
Haha! I didn’t think of garments when I saw the blog title… I like how one of the things they ward off is “hot sex.” I’ve heard that some people in Idaho believe they have to have sex with their garments on–like at least dangling off their ankle, I guess? What a pain in the ass. Garments suck. I cleaned out my husband’s drawers and found some old garment tops. I was thinking about saving some for my older sons to wear as undershirts. I thought it would be kind of funny. I decided against it though. Those old superstitions die hard…
Thank God my husband quit before he was endowed.
When I stopped wearing mine, I was still living at home. I’d take the clean ones and throw them in the wash. Meanwhile, I wore the underwear of my choice and washed them in the sink. Yes, thanks to a mission in a land without washing machines, I scrubbed, washed and dried my real undies in private for a couple of months before getting out of there.
god i hated garments. the antithesis of sexy. bras over the top–are you effing kidding me? not only that, but i guess now they dictate what color bras and, when necessary, panties are kosher. white. of course.
i didn’t know about the garment hug or whatever its called until after i stopped wearing mine. i don’t know if i ever received one. i did, however, always look for them–for example when my endowed boyfriend bent over and i didn’t see anything. i immediately thought he was being a bad, bad boy.
heh heh. endowed. bad boy. mmmm.
life is a lot cooler without those things. and i’m thrilled to be wearing shorts and tanks, although i don’t wear the tanks in the company of my TBM family. i have worn the shorts, though–and yes, i have recieved the “omg” looks. oh well.
Ah, the dreaded garment grope. I wrote a post about it once, and offended a bunch of people. Only in the land of Mormopods is it considered acceptable to feel up a total stranger, in the hopes of determining what kind of underwear they’re wearing. In the real world, that’s indecent assault.