Date night was Friday, and Special Man had big things planned. He was happy and upbeat and excited to give me a couple of belated birthday gifts. I was tired after my first full week back at work, and secretly wished I was still curled up in my cozy bed, but when I walked into the sushi restaurant he had picked out, and saw him sitting in the corner booth, I could tell immediately that this was A Big Date. He was wearing the pale blue dress shirt that suits him so well and honestly, makes me salivate a little.
There was a small brown box sitting on the table. Special Man was almost bouncing in his seat waiting for me to open it. (It was pretty adorable.) Inside the box was a necklace, a cameo with a purple “Day of the Dead” themed skeleton. It was beautiful and quirky, and it was not something I would ever buy for myself. I squealed a little and put it on. He picked it out just for me, and there’s no better feeling than that.
He had also picked out a stunning deep purple and black brocade full corset, which was one of the prettiest corsets I’d ever seen. Again, it wasn’t something I would ever spend the money on for myself. (I always choose the practical option.) I’ve never owned a corset, and I’ve always wanted one. After dinner, we headed over to the shop where he had purchased it, because he had been unsure of the fit, and wanted to see me in it and then exchange it if I needed a different size.
We were both disappointed that the corset didn’t fit, and there weren’t any of the same style in a larger size. Ironically, bigger breasts are tricky in a corset. I expected to look like a bombshell, but it seems like a corset took away some of my curves, and then made others WAY too accentuated. As in my hips. Holy hell. I think I’m going to try an underbust that hits me right at the waist, but that night I had already been laced into five or so corsets, and I was tired and well, maybe my body image was suffering a little and I just felt like an overstuffed sausage, and the store was about to close and I felt rushed.
However, before we left I tried on a completely impractical, red pinup girl style, dress, with a fitted bodice, and full skirt. Special Man insisted we buy it, along with a full petticoat, which most definitely is the very most impractical thing I have ever owned, as it goes underneath the dress and isn’t necessary, and isn’t really seen.
But the twirl factor was so intoxicating! I was just so excited, I couldn’t stop smiling. Twirling is such a girlie thing to me. It’s silly and frivolous and fun and joyful. As we left the store, I told SMF about my little girl issues. I told him about how when I was little, my sister Jessi had the pink floral dress with the puffy sleeves and a pink satin sash, and how I had the tailored, understated, cross front dress with the green belt. She was always the “pretty one” and I was the “smart one”. I’m not sure why we couldn’t both have been pretty and smart, and I’m fairly certain that my parents never intended for us to pick up on, or adopt those labels, but it just happened. This red dress, and this black flouncy petticoat make me feel like the pretty one, and while I’m conscious of the fact that I don’t have to buy into whatever remnant of childhood insecurity remains, it’s nice to be immersed in that girlie girl feeling. I can’t wait to wear it on Saturday for a party I’m hosting. A kinky party.