It takes me the best part of 30 minutes just to get the outfit on.
The basque is very pretty but comes with suspenders. I can manage to attach the ones at the front, no problem, but the ones at the back are nigh on impossible. I twist round, awkwardly, as far as my back will allow and stretch the suspender down as far as I can. Simultaneously I pull up on the stocking, and try to marry the two together. This is not a simple process. The attachment is small and plastic and filled with a pathological desire to be anywhere but attached to my stocking. The strain on the elastic is immense, and I sense another bungee-in-miniature moment approaching. The fucking thing twangs out of my fingers and pings me on the arse for the 37th time and I wonder if it's worth the effort. There's a reason tights were invented.
I persevere, with much cursing, until finally everything is attached to what it should be and I am ready. I regard my reflection. My thighs spill out over the tops of the stockings, like dough rising. My hips look massive, flaring out from beneath the cut off point of the basque. I am not sure about the parts of my belly that can be seen due to the high cut of the knickers. I peer into the mirror, turning back and forth, trying to find the best possible viewing angle. Then I give up and reach for my black satin robe. Much better.
Such self criticism, and so ridiculous. He knows what I look like. He is not going to be surprised or dismayed by my flesh. When he sees my new underwear, and my heaving bosoms doing their best to escape from their lacy confines, he will not be giving me the harsh appraisal to which I subject myself. He will be too busy determining whether I taste as good as I look and writing silvery runes of approval all over my stockings as his cock drools his unfakeable response.
I have learned a lot about body acceptance through reading and viewing those who participate in HNT. Despite my teasing, and spoof Half Mental Thursdays, I am actually very fond of it (as I am with most of that which I lampoon.) It is heartening to see that diversity really is the norm.
So, in that spirit, here I am, Half Nekkid and Half Mental, merging my unsexy can't-get-my-suspenders-to-work side with my actually-I'm-a-bit-of-all-right side. Which ties in with my own sex blogging challenge to a degree.
I still can't do those back suspenders though.