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Sunday morning
Today was the first day I got to lounge around for the whole morning in my binder.
The MIL left for church early on this morning and I had time for a leisurely shower. I'm trying out this new tea tree oil-based shampoo and conditioner from Trader Joe's, and I'm still not sure what I think of it.
I put on my binder straight away after the shower because I wanted to get into it before the mirror unfogged. That was a mistake. The damn thing got stuck halfway down because my skin was still tacky with moisture from the shower and I spent the better part of five minutes flailing about trying to get it pulled all the way down.
Once I finally got the binder on, however, I had a splendid morning. I got some coffee and a bowl of cereal and lounged around in the living room in my pajamas, catching up on my Internet reading (you fine people). In just pajama bottoms and a tank top, I could definitely see the fabric of the binder but the shape itself was still pleasant. Not outdoor wear, but certainly fun.
The binder was constricting. Not as much as a corset, but it exerted enough pressure that drawing a deep breath took a considered effort. I don't think I'd like to work out while wearing it. But it felt so right. Wearing the binder felt like a relief, like I could let down my guard a little and that would be okay. But it was also a euphoric sensation; I think I spent most of the morning grinning like an idiot.
I gave my husband a hug when he got out of bed. That was... special. I've been hugging him every day for just about a decade and it's great--but today, for the first time, I got to hug him without that mental twinge of wrong-wrong-wrong when my breasts pressed against his chest. It was a wonderful feeling. Hugging without reservation. I cried--I'm man enough to admit that. :)
Then the MIL came home and I had to scurry back into the bedroom to change.
I wish I had more privacy in my own home, but so it goes. The binder was so hard to take off, and not only because I got stuck again. I must have stood in front of the bedroom mirror for a good five minutes before I turned around and shimmied out of the binder.
I think I'm still smiling, though.
The MIL left for church early on this morning and I had time for a leisurely shower. I'm trying out this new tea tree oil-based shampoo and conditioner from Trader Joe's, and I'm still not sure what I think of it.
I put on my binder straight away after the shower because I wanted to get into it before the mirror unfogged. That was a mistake. The damn thing got stuck halfway down because my skin was still tacky with moisture from the shower and I spent the better part of five minutes flailing about trying to get it pulled all the way down.
Once I finally got the binder on, however, I had a splendid morning. I got some coffee and a bowl of cereal and lounged around in the living room in my pajamas, catching up on my Internet reading (you fine people). In just pajama bottoms and a tank top, I could definitely see the fabric of the binder but the shape itself was still pleasant. Not outdoor wear, but certainly fun.
The binder was constricting. Not as much as a corset, but it exerted enough pressure that drawing a deep breath took a considered effort. I don't think I'd like to work out while wearing it. But it felt so right. Wearing the binder felt like a relief, like I could let down my guard a little and that would be okay. But it was also a euphoric sensation; I think I spent most of the morning grinning like an idiot.
I gave my husband a hug when he got out of bed. That was... special. I've been hugging him every day for just about a decade and it's great--but today, for the first time, I got to hug him without that mental twinge of wrong-wrong-wrong when my breasts pressed against his chest. It was a wonderful feeling. Hugging without reservation. I cried--I'm man enough to admit that. :)
Then the MIL came home and I had to scurry back into the bedroom to change.
I wish I had more privacy in my own home, but so it goes. The binder was so hard to take off, and not only because I got stuck again. I must have stood in front of the bedroom mirror for a good five minutes before I turned around and shimmied out of the binder.
I think I'm still smiling, though.