The Old Red Corset

We’re getting old… or something.

Hubby and I sent children to bed. “You have to go to bed. I’m taking a bath and going to bed.” I failed to mention what I’d be doing before falling asleep. Children don’t need to know that sort of thing.

I decided to try on the old red corset. (It’s an old one from Fredericks Of Hollywood. It’s *only* twenty years old.) “Why are you unlacing it?” Hubby asked as he moved something off the bed and started to set up the laptop.

“Because,” I said, pausing for emphasis, “after three kids my hips are too large to pull it up over them still laced.” I had already teased the knot out of one end, so all I needed to do was removed the lacing cord.

“Why not put it on from the top?”

“Because it usually tries to twist and poke me when it’s going over my shoulders.” It may have been years since I’ve worn it, but I haven’t forgotten the fights I had with the stupid thing. Of course back then, there was long hair to get tangled to be the finishing touch.

I grumbled and flopped on the bed. “What’s wrong now?”

“I’m just lying flat to lace it. Dang, I need to dip the lace in nail polish. It’s fraying all over the place.” I struggled to make the lace go through the eye loops.

“You’re not cross lacing it?” My fashion critic notices everything.

“No, this is ladder lacing. They did it a lot in the Middle Ages. Supposed to be easier on the lacing…” I repeated the action: over, up, over, up, over, up… when the lacing cord wasn’t busy fraying.

Finally, the corset was on. Hubby tightened the shoulder straps. I stood correctly. We’re talking posture. “Ouch!”

“What now?” He was getting into his side of the bed.

“Under-wire. It’s twisted.” I made more ouchie noises as I pulled on the garment and forced the under-wire into some semblance of correct shape.

The built-in, non-removable garter straps tickled my legs. “Where did I put the… ok, here.” I pulled out the container of stockings. These were the good ones, not the crappy modern ones from cheap lingerie stores. I rooted through and found an opened package with two unused pairs. I triumphantly whipped out one pair. “Ooo, stretchy. Support, I think.”

“Where’d you get those?”

“From Granny. Since I’m about the same height as her, I got all the stockings. Oh, good. Reinforced toes only.” I slid the stockings on. Unfortunately, with the corset laced up, I couldn’t reach the back garters. “A little help, pretty please?” I turned my back to him and stretched my leg out sideways. I felt a bit like a flamingo. I repeated the pose with the other leg. When he finished, I looked at myself in the headboard mirror.

It was a whole lot of work to get into a corset, just to take it off again. But I think it made him happy. He grinned the whole time. Maybe next time I’ll wear it more than two hours.