It seemed simple enough, a blouse and skirt for work. Unfortunately, a glance over my shoulder into the mirror, revealed seams and ripples that should not be visible. I tried a different slip, seamless underwear, and tried untucking the blouse. Nothing helped. My last resort was Spanx, previously known by our moms, as girdles. (circa 1900’s). On a Lycra strength scale of 1 – 10, Spanx are a 37.  And the bottom line is a much improved view for those behind us. As for the blouse, our bank’s dress code has  zero tolerance for exposed cleavage; not a huge problem for me, but I comply when I must. So, off came the blouse. I nearly dislocated my shoulder squeezing into a camisole, formerly known as an undershirt. I don’t have many of them, but sometimes, I acquire used camis from the old clothes box that my daughter packs for the thrift shop. One last look in the mirror showed that everything was smoother. It should have been! I mean, between the Lycra content in my cami and in the Spanx, I felt like a sling-shot.  8 am: my Lycra meter was edging higher.  11:30: I tugged the cami away from my ribs. 1:30pm: I couldn’t breathe. Why does Lycra seem to tighten every hour?  And without getting too graphic, let me just say, that avoiding the restroom was easier than wiggling the Spanx off and on. 3 pm: my Spanx were strangling my flanks. I would’ve screamed but the cami was a vice on my lungs. I grabbed scissors and headed for the ladies room. I ripped off the Spanx as fast as is humanly possibly. It could not be fast enough. Then I cut off the cami, from waist to sternum, threw it in the trash can and headed back to my desk to face the rest of the work day with little support, but with a great deal of relief. The Lycra won the battle, but I won the war!