“$1500 for a leather bustier?”

“It lifts and separates. Plus, it’s not like I’m actually paying for it.”

Well, I have taken two half steps regarding my by Christmas goals and intentions and its addendum. While not undergarments per se, I procured today, somewhat unexpectedly but with much delight and enthusiasm, a leather corset. Yes, corsets are kind of instead of a bra, but this one is of the style to be worn on the outside of one’s clothing or, simply, as one’s clothing. Think steam punk kind of corset. Heart shaped neckline, green alligator print center panel, and dark green, smooth leather for the rest of it, with tarnished silver clasps in two columns in the front and laces in the center back.

And oh, my gosh, does it look amazing. On me, I mean.

We were at RenFest, and I had just wanted to try the styles on to see how I liked the idea of, one day, getting a leather corset for myself. I always saw this blue and black one on the front gate of this particular shop, and kind of longed for it or something like it in my life.

So, after much hesitation and working through if mental struggled, I asked if we needed to have on a shirt to try on the corsets – all other women had been in blouses, so far as I had seen, and my piece-of-leather top would not work with a corset. When the answer was an emphatic negatory, I asked if I could go ahead and try one on, then, and if someone would dress me in it. The man who had originally stared conversation with me about the shop and its/his family told me that I absolutely could and that he could help dress me. So, he did. And he did a wonderful job.

I loved the straight-across one I tried first. Actually, it was second, because the first straight one was actually too large. He was clear about that quite quickly, when the laces went all the way in, almost immediately. But, once I got the next size down, I found that I liked the straight one on me.

I spoke up, however, and requested to try on the other shape just to see it on me, too, even though they’d said it tended to be more of a style worn by bustier women, a group of which I am certainly not part. They thought there were none around in my size, but the one guy came walking up with two in his hands – they had been on front display, and so hadn’t been tested at all or purchased. A blue and a green one. The blue was very much the blue of a friend of mine, and not my liken of blue. The green was an earthy, olive-y green. I selected the green to try, though after hearing my mom’s opinion and hat of the shopkeeper’s. When he had finished lacing me into it, and I turned to look myself over in the mirror, I was somewhat shocked. Not only did it look nice on me, it looked gooood. Kind of to the point that a small part of me wondered who else – beside myself – had a sudden urge to grab me and rip my clothes off of me in a fit of instant and utter desire and lust. It looked that good. I looked that good.

I knew I wanted it. I knew I wanted to be the person who would wear it confidently and proudly, yet humbly and gratefully. As it would be a significant investment, however, I took my time considering whether to purchase this one, here and now, or to wait for another time, even possibly to have one custom-made instead. To consider whether this green would be as much of a delight as my earlier-desired brown.

While I considered, several women, eyes bulging when they registered me, commented supporting comments to me or near me about the corset on me. The shopkeeper kindly informed me that 1) several women had said I needed to get the corset, and that 2) I looked spectacular in it. He was being genuine, and it meant a lot that had had given his personal opinion, as I knew he was not just trying to be flirtatious or just sell something.

Seeing as how it was actually quite cold out, I eventually removed the corset, and dressed back in my leather too and skirt and faux-fur cloak to finish considering with a not-shaking body and a warm conscience. Once dressed again, I could think more clearly. I wanted first to see the dark green leather in the sunlight. I wanted to confirm that it stood out as clearly not-black in sunlight. I’m not a black person. Earthy tones and natural tones galore, sure, but not black.

The second thing was the tougher thing. I told my mom, ‘I have a small part in me that worries I will be slutty, a slut, and whore in this,’ and, ‘I think I just need to be told that it is okay and safe for me – for me – to wear this.’ Due to my history with certain men, there is still a part of me that is scared with things like this. While I am always gentle with her, I always acknowledge what she has to say before firmly telling her what’s truly so. When my mom said what I felt I needed to hear – though I already knew it to be true – that scared girl within me calmed down, and I finally was able to choose freely for myself.

Naturally, I chose the corset.

And, boy, am I glad I did. I can hardly wait to wear it.

Post-a-day 2021

Fashion Tips?

Wearing a very striped black-and-white dress, sans brassier, she says, ‘I dont think anyone will really notice.’
‘…’
‘… Okay, THAT much.’
They both laugh.
‘Yeah… Men definitely will notice. Remember that. Not that it’s a problem. Just remember it.’
Post-a-day 2021

The oddest things

*****Fair warning: Bodily content discussed in the following ********

I swear, for most of my life, I have wondered at the fact that my nipples look like they just might belong to two totally different people. One side is always one way, and the other side is always another way. They might as well be on two different bodies, the way they behave and stand and look. Sure, they’re related to one another. But they are not twins. Not in the least.

I wonder if Playboy (etc.) ever had to photoshop a nipple, because a model had a similar situation, and they just weren’t about it… ‘Nipples must match!’ they declared one day.

Okay, I am totally laughing at this image I have of a bunch of rich white guys in suits having this conversation in an office, just like they would have serious financial conversations in any fancy, multi-million-dollar business. And this one just happens to be about nipples. ::facepalm

Oh, man…

Literally. (Ha!)

Post-a-day 2021

^Nope, still had to think about it

Ouch

You know, I feel like one of the most annoying parts of menstruation is the intense pain and tenderness that shows up in the breasts. I mean, what purpose does that serve? Genuinely: Does it have a real purpose?

It hurts, it has no obvious purpose, and it is annoying. Plus, at least for me, it has me regularly cupping my breasts, in an effort to ease the pain…, which, of course, is not the most casual or clear way to be not drawing attention to them for nearby males. I almost could feel bad for the poor fellows who have to see women hold their own breasts like this, so gently…, if it weren’t for the fact that we women are doing it purely out of a need to decrease pain and discomfort, and not as a means to draw a guy’s eyes. The fact that it makes guys stare almost doesn’t bother us, because it actually soothes the physical pain to hold them with our warm, gentle hands…, but I said almost…

It is ironic, though, how an effort to decrease one discomfort causes another… 😛

Sigh… anyway, mine hurt, and it has been for days longer than usual this time… ugh.

Now, for some stinted and shallow sleep…

Post-a-day 2020

“Compliments”

I’m part of a ladies group for my former job in Japan, and someone recently posted about how these old ladies always compliment her nostrils as being proportionate to her nose, and so she wonders if anyone else gets funny compliments from other Japanese people.

In a quick think through, I came up with this for my own experience:

I’m dirty blonde and blue-eyed. Students often complimented my ‘beautiful’ hair, asked to touch it and my arm hair, constantly complemented my ‘amazing’ and ‘beautiful’ ‘high nose’, and even, on occasion, discussed how ‘amazing’ my ‘soft breasts’* were (which, by the way, are proportionate to my body and are a small B cup for US sizing)…

Also, I once had a new student, who had just learned that my eyes are blue, specially request to see my eyes… he then gazed into them for a full thirty seconds, and then thanked me and walked away. 😂

*Because, naturally, they discovered that I was not wearing push-up or padded bras, and so, from the outside, my breasts were ‘soft’ and not ‘hard’, like their extremely padded bras…, which they explained to me by tapping loudly on their own surprisingly solid bras…

Oh, Japan…

I do miss you… ❤

Post-a-day 2019

Grazingly uncomfortable

A few years ago, I was talking to a male friend of mine about one of the other guys at dance, and how I couldn’t figure out if he noticed that he would end up swiping the edge of my boob whenever we danced together (partner dancing).

He informed me and the other females present that a guy always knows when he has touched boob – it is like radar… whenever boob touches any part of a guy’s body, it immediately alerts, “BOOB!”

And so then we were all wondering if the occasional faces that the guy we’d been discussing would make – an almost embarrassed, pursed-lip, laughing expression, like a little boy who’s snuck ice cream before dinner, and his favorite aunt calls him out on it, but they both know she won’t tell Mommy (and probably just will steal a bite in exchange for her nonverbal agreed-upon silence in the matter) every so often while dancing with me were because he noticed that he’d touched boob, but hadn’t meant to do so, and so now didn’t know how to respond appropriately, but did his best to ignore the event (with his face totally betraying him).

Because we really couldn’t figure out why he always made those faces when dancing with me…., but this seemed like a reasonable and likely solution to our quandary.

The specific guy was an actual well-known friend, and so we all agreed easily that he was not at all intentionally malicious in any way with the boob grazing – he was just not that great with the body management while staying on beat and all in the dancing.

I don’t remember if I ever verified this theory – aka tested it time and time again, when dancing with the guy – but I have a sense of being rather convinced of that being the case, even now, years later, so I’m thinking I did check that he always made those faces just after what seemed like an unintentional boob graze.

Now, the reason this has come up tonight, is because of something that happened tonight.

When giving me a side hug tonight, a long-armed guy’s arm went a little too far around my back – about half an inch, I guess – and his fingertips, ever so slightly, grazed the outer edge of my breast.

When it happened, I naturally pulled strategically out of the hug, from years of practice in removing myself from any sort of uncomfortable situation, intended or accidental.

I didn’t say anything, though, because I found myself wondering first, Did he notice that?, which was almost immediately cut off by the memory of what my friend had told me years before: “BOOB!”

And then I wondered, Was that intentional?

????????????????

And then I didn’t know where to go with it.

He’s a tall guy, so misalignments can happen rather easily, as they happen with extreme height differences…, but he’s a tall guy, and he has been a tall guy for some time, and ought to know how to manage such things by this point in his life… but he’s also really not a ladies’ man, and so might not be too accustomed to hugging girls in the first place…

After the fact, I feel almost embarrassed that I was too embarrassed for him to bring it up, to tell him in some way that I disapprove of the behavior, whether it was intentional or not – I didn’t have to be mean to him at all, but I think it would have been valuable to inform him either way to be cautious in the future.

Yet, it was not so natural a thing to me that I even considered saying anything at the time… I just moved away from the incident altogether, for fear of discomfort.

I didn’t want to embarrass him over something he had neither intentionally done nor known about.

I was embarrassed for myself at the prospect of pointing out that he had touched me inappropriately, period.

This is something for me to work on for myself – I want to be comfortable to speak up and conscious enough to do so, whenever anything like this might happen.

And I want all people to be encouraged to do so themselves, too – I want us to be happy and comfortable in our own skins, and to be able to express, in a useful and beneficial way, what doesn’t work from other people’s behavior toward us.

Yeah.

Post-a-day 2019