Iliza Shlesinger Removes Garter In Front Of Her Parents _ Netflix Is A Joke

What's a garter? Some of you might be wondering. Perhaps you're from the future where they've eradicated this practice. A garter is a Barbie doll scrunchie. Forged of the finest polyester lace. It comes in one size. Shame. And you, on your wedding day, among the one million things you're in charge of, girls, are also tasked with taking this ******* nouveau ring. And hoisting it up your leg, God forbid, on the wedding day. We give women a break with the body image issues. And be like, oh, what's that, that goose choker? That lap band for a chinchilla? Yeah, you can just wear that at the ankle. That's fine. You can just wear that where everything tapers. No, you gotta get it up. Get it up here to this thick-ass traffic jam. Of just ice cold fat and skin and dinner. Just thick, thick. And I live in LA, they're like, you can just freeze it off if you don't like it. I'm like, I've been to North Dakota in the winter. It did not go anywhere. Female comic shames her own thigh. And in doing so, makes millions of women question their own thighs. Why can't you love your thighs? Because I am a white woman, okay? Women of color, for a couple years now, have been like, this is a thigh. And society's been like, that is a thigh. We celebrate it. White women, somehow, are still like, uh-uh. I'm gonna shave it down. I'm gonna make it small. I'm gonna fuse my rib cage to my shin. Be cajun shin. Snip, snip. You won't even see it, woman. You won't even know it. Thighs, can't see them, can't be big. No thighs. If I walk, I'm gonna put my thighs in the background, put my tits in the foreground. I walk around like this. Man, but from here to here, I wanna be 10-year-old Japanese boy. And it never looks nice. Your leg has to be the length of your body for it to look nice. You look down, you finally get it up there. You're like, it looks like I put a mini tennis skirt on a Christmas ham. And it's tight. Of course, it's tight. It's a garter. It's meant to hold up clothing. Right now, all it's holding up is that blood flow. Blood, like, trying to get to the artery. You're like, uh-uh. Your skin is just moon-pying out on either side. You're staring down at your corpulent leg as it pulsates with stagnant blood. It's turning a light shade of blue. You're like, I'm the night queen. I don't know. You don't have time to ponder the deadening of your leg. You don't have time because you gotta get yourself over to the dance floor, sweet tits. That's right. You gotta get yourself over to the dance floor where you and your new husband are gonna perform a weird sexual garter removal dance. Your mother is there. Sitting there spread eagle. She's like, uh-uh, I'll get it on tape. I'll be there for the conception. Your father is there. And he loves you girls, but he has tapped out. He's like, yeah, **** her. I don't know. He's a good guy, and this is good shrimp. It's good shrimp. It's a cash bar, but they're trying.