How to Remove Girl Wedgies in Public
The mirror obliges. I’m dressed and primed ready to leave my apartment for a coveted job interview.
Reflected in the mirror is a smart looking woman in a black designer business suit. An understated white shirt, black stockings and polished back shoes contrast deliciously in the mirror.
I’m ready to shine. I want this job; it’s one I’ve dreamt about for the past decade!
The elevator in the thirty story office building is already packed with “suits” when I step into it. I lunge forward and it happens. My new underwear wedges firmly between my bottom cheeks. Darnit!
I’m distracted now. The girl wedgie is uncomfortable. Actually it’s darned uncomfortable. I try to ignore it but can’t.
I must fix it immediately
I wriggle my bottom from side to side. No luck. I try again, this time a little more vigorously. During this wriggle I accidentally rub my bottom against a “suit” who glares back at me and moves away a little. I blush and quickly stop wriggling.
My next trick is to grab the leg of my panties and tug but that makes the wedge even tighter!
There’s nothing for it. Desperate measures are required. I have to find a way to dislodge this wedgie so I quickly come up with another plan.
Privacy at the rear of the elevator
I go to the back of the elevator so I can use the (relative) privacy of this position to release my cheeks from the discomfort of the wedgie.
Thankfully, the elevator stops on each of the floors between 13 and 20 which buys me a little time. My temperature is rising; sweat beads appear on my upper lip. My preoccupation is complete. Somehow I secure the coveted spot at the back of the elevator where (I hope) none of the other travelers in the high rise will notice my maneuvers.
Please let no-one see me.
I surreptitiously put my hand under my jacket and down the inside back of my skirt and grab the inside fabric of my undies. It works! I’m so happy. I now feel ready to face the inevitable panel of receptionists guarding my interviewer.
My underwear firmly back in its rightful place, I confidently step out of the lift. This is my time to shine.
The bank of Receptionists were ready to receive me
I take two steps into the austere reception area with its bank of coiffured receptionists (what DO they do all day) and my underwear wedges its way back into my bottom crack!
“How can I help you?” says receptionist number three rather haughtily.
I paint on my best smile. “Good morning. I have an appointment with Mr Wedge,” I reply confidently.
Then I look at the smirk on her face. Her colleagues’ suddenly busy themselves shuffling paper to cover up their sniggers.
Too late, I realize my error, “ooh I mean Mr Wedgewood.”
Everyone knows clever interviewers ask how candidates behaved on arrival in reception. Don’t they?