Bridget Jones Knickers | My Mills Baby

I have some of the best weapons available at my disposal for #opbabyweight. I have the Nutribullet (a machine I might actually rush into a burning building to save), Juice Plus+ which has achieved vitamin supremacy owing to the 40+ years of hard science behind it, and gadgets aplenty designed to coax better fitness out of the laziest of people. Yet sometimes it’s the littlest and most inconsequential of things that help you feel a few inches smaller on a night out.

Whether you call them Bridget Jones knickers, tummy control pants, or plain old “shapewear” (why does that always conjure a mental image of silver-haired women browsing in M&S?) - every girl’s panty drawer will have a few buried beneath their racier cousins.

The world’s most unforgiving dress with no panties

Women are sly. Fact. We’re sneaky enough to wriggle our way into the unsexiest of knicks before slipping on our LBDs (barricading the door with our body weight until we’re all strapped in). Funny how we’re quite alright to let our fellas see us before our slap is on and our hair is done, but we’re so secretive about what’s under our bodycons.

We offer men plentiful excuses for not letting them see us get dressed; we don’t want to spoil the after-dinner treat, we need our dresses on before whipping the GHDs so our curls won’t get flattened… but in reality it’s because we know if he sees the scaffolding under the dress, it’ll ruin the sex kitten illusion we’ve spent hours creating.

In short, apple catchers are an essential bit of kit for the modern day woman.

So when UK based lingerie and nightwear specialist Camille got in touch about reviewing for them, I casually skipped over all the pretty nightdresses, practical PJs and cosy-looking robes, and headed straight for the passion killers.

I chose two different styles; Camille’s high waisted slimming briefs and the more conventional control high-waisted briefs. I expected much of a likeness to be honest, on the face of it, all shapewear is designed to do pretty much the same thing. For me, the idea is to smooth out a fold on my tummy that I’ll have you believe has been created by my c-section scar (not too many pies of course).

High-waisted slimming briefs (pair one)

First up we have the high-waisted briefs. This is a faux satin mix of nylon and elastane with no seams or decoration to really smooth out all your bumps. It contours from under bust to under your bottom and is available in an impressive range of sizes from 10-22 (I take a 14 if you must know!).

The panelling is such that it focuses solely on your tummy and skirts over your upper thigh - for a body as lumpy and unhappy as mine, this can result in further bulging under loose-fitting dresses etc.

The world’s most unforgiving dress with pair one

The other thing about these bad boys is that the waistband has no rubber seam to prevent rolling (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I hate you. You are the sort of woman I fantasize about throttling in my dreams). Funnily enough I haven’t had a bad experience with them not staying put, but something in that waistband is a little itchy.

Style wise these are probably the least ugly tummy control knicks I’ve come across, they’re simple and less “lace curtains” than many others. Yet this really is a case of substance-over-style and the other pair just win out for me. That said, I’d choose these for under jeans and trousers no problem at all.

Control Slimming Briefs (pair two)

The high-waisted control briefs offer a much smoother silhouette than the other pair making them ideal for wearing under clingy dresses. These feature a control panel to flatten out your muffin tops which really is a bonus and streamlines what is a problem area for many of us. A rubber waistband with a generous tummy panel also ensures you can tuck the band neatly under your bra for maximum comfort.

The world’s most unforgiving dress with pair two

Aesthetically they aren’t as pretty but who cares. I tend to shrug them off after a night out and slip into something a little sexier before Craig even notices. Again, they go up to bigger sizes and are available in black or white to suit every outfit.

I’ve worn both sets of knickers for long evenings on the town and haven’t any complaints other than the itchiness of pair one around my midriff. I forget about them when they’re on which suggests they’re doing the job perfectly.

The best bit, they’re £9.99 and £14.99 respectively. I’ve shelled out double that for highstreet pairs so I’d highly recommend both pairs as more reasonably priced alternatives.

To check out Camille’s shapewear for yourself, head over to the website or say hello on Twitter and Facebook for more deals and inspiration.

Nope I’m not really Flavia Cacace, I haven’t been concealing my identity for the last 3 years, and I don’t have a Rear of the Year award stashed at the back of my wardrobe… Sadly. But it is true that my generously round (and increasingly dimply) bum did win us a new family car three years ago.

You see, one of my first ever dates with my Craig was drinks in our town centre. It really should go down in history as one of the worst first dates in history. Before we’d even spent our first night together, before I’d even met his parents, before I’d even found out where he lived, my Craig had seen my naked bum.

It happened as a result of an accident in a bar. I’d had my first glass of wine to iron out the nerves and the conversation was flowing well. Excusing myself from the table I popped outside into the makeshift beer garden for a cigarette. It was a busy Saturday night and the ‘garden’ (if you can call it that!) was teeming with twenty-somethings in various states of inebriation. As I was dressed to impress and wearing a painfully short white dress, I moved to the far end of the paved area in an attempt to avoid flailing wine glasses and the like. Smart move you might say?

Well apparently not.

Two seconds later I found myself on my bum on the floor. I’d chosen a pretty precarious place to stand, my heel had found its way into a large crack in the paving, and I’d landed on yet another deep crack that was full of rainwater, cigarette butts, and other nasties I won’t think too deeply about. Far from being sympathetic, a doormen hauled me up off the floor and started to bundle me out the door mistaking me for a drunk.

Craig caught sight of what was happening and rushed over to help me. It didn’t take long for us to notice I’d cut myself quite badly and the blood was seeping through my dress. It was at that point I realised I had no choice but to ease aside my Bridget Jones knickers and show him my bare bum so he could assess how deep the injury was. Turns out it was deep enough to warrant a trip to hospital. Oh joy.

So we weren’t talking a quick flash here. Craig called an ambulance and within no time at all I was laid on my tummy on a hospital gurney with my blood soaked and dirt covered bum in the air. All dignity lost, Craig stayed with me as a rather bemused nurse gave me 8 stitches and sent me home with an embarrassingly large gauze on my bum. Quite why or how Craig managed to overlook that night is beyond me.

A few days later, when I’d finally learnt how to ease myself onto the sofa in a sitting position, I did something I’ve never done before. I phoned a lawyer. Craig had cleverly taken some pictures of the hole I had fallen down and a few of my injury - I must have been in shock as I doubt I’ve have readily consented to a shot of my bum. My case was taken on by a lawyer, a few emails were exchanged, and I quickly forgot all about it.

6 months later I received a phone call to see I’d been awarded £8000 in damages. To say I was stunned was an understatement. Yes it had hurt like mad, resulted in time off work, and has left a scar resembling a tick on my bum, but I’d survived and was now pregnant with Craig’s baby. That night was partly responsible for bringing us together as a couple so I wasn’t traumatiscised by it. Still, I wasn’t going to turn the offer down - £8000 could get us everything we needed for the new arrival.

A week later I received a very frantic and apologetic call from my lawyer to say he’d misinterpreted the settlement and the figure he’d quoted wasn’t all mine. That figure was to include his own fees and I would actually only receive £5000. I was to disregard any paperwork with the original figure on and he’d send me the adjusted sum. Although £5000 was still a hefty bonus, I wasn’t satisfied I’d been represented well and had my case transferred to another lawyer who successfully argued Solicitor Negligence on my behalf. Just a month later a cheque came through the post for the full original amount and the rest is history.

Lessons learnt? Camera phones are invaluable if you have an accident, it’s probably best to avoid white chiffon if you’re out on the town… and Bridget Jones knickers are never a good idea.

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