Corset Diaries: The Secret Tales of Compression Garments

I remember it like it was yesterday. The unbearable gnashing of blades was a thing to be feared, but submitting to it was my destiny. I knew that I would soon lay helpless and weak before the wicked creature, powerless to defend myself from his clutches. But the being the optimist that I was, I held on to the fervent hope that I could somehow save myself. I wanted to be different from the rest, holding myself together and keeping myself intact. For a while, I believed it was possible. But fate can be a cruel jokester, altering your life without even giving you the slightest bit of warning.

When I woke up, things were different. Well, my sides were a little sore, and I felt the presence of some odd, vertical foreign objects under my skin, but I felt surprisingly nimble. Maybe this transformation wouldn't be so bad after all. After all, many of my ancestors had experienced this life-altering experience before me and had lived to tell the tale. In fact, some of them were blessed to live glorious lives in far-away, exotic places. Suddenly, I was consumed with gratitude and my optimism returned. I convinced myself that the changes that were forced upon me were for the best, even though I was perfectly happy and content in my former life, boring as it was.

Where I come from, vanity is the most shunned of vices. We were taught that our beauty is in our simplicity. Of course, it was easy for me to buy into that philosophy since I was so very plain. Pale and white I was, and terribly flat. I secretly envied my cousin Lycra who was so colorful, and had the gift of contortion. She was very popular with the sporting crowd, and I despised how she flaunted it incessantly in my face. If only she could see me now. I suddenly had the backbone to defend my simple ways. Or maybe I should say "backbones". "What the... OMG. I actually have curves!" I smiled with smug satisfaction when I discovered the pretty bands of lace adorning the front of my shapely front panel. I knew I should feel guilty for abandoning the principles I grew up with, but none of this was my fault. These changes were forced upon me by a higher power, and there was no turning back now.

I shouldn't complain about the circumstances surrounding my voyage away from home. I know that I should be grateful, because in my new form I didn't have much of a future in my hometown. Even now, I miss home ever so much. The higher power sent me on this journey with nary a clue, and I didn't even have a chance to tell my beloved Nana goodbye. Like a thief in the night they whisked me away, despite my angry protests. Next thing I knew, I was on a freight train to Las Vegas, also known as "Sin City". I was filled with trepidation, not knowing if my future exploits would be in conflict with my Puritan upbringing. Imagine my relief when I arrived at a huge warehouse, many miles away from the Red Light District that I thought would be my destiny.

My new roommate, Charlene, was a portly gal, full of cheer and racy stories of her sordid past. Of course, nobody believed her stories. She was just as fresh and new as the rest of us, so how could she be so worldly? Found out later that she was jealous of me because I was a more popular size, but all the while she bragged about how unique she was because she was a "Special Order". "What's a Special Order?" I asked incredulously, even though I already knew the answer. (Charlene had low self-esteem, so I always asked her this question because I knew it made her feel important.) "It means that I am unique and one-of-a-kind," she exclaimed proudly. Then she would go on and on about how she was destined to become the companion of a plus-size supermodel and live her life amongst the jetsetters and swingers.

A nice man approached me and gingerly took me off my shelf. "BOMAN Size 30", he said gently, before taking me to an area they called "Shipping". They might as well have called it Siberia. I had just gotten comfortable in my new home at the warehouse, and I wasn't anxious to leave just yet. Where would they be sending me next? I strained my ears to hear, but all I could make out were the words "Fort Worth, Texas". Charlene shouted out to me as I was being carried away. "Penny," she said somewhat sarcastically, "Everything's bigger in Texas. You won't fit and they'll send you back!" Dang, that Charlene sure can be mean sometimes.

I slept most of the way to Fort Worth, and didn't even notice that my shipping box had been opened and pair of big green eyes were staring at me. I swear that those were the biggest eyes I had ever seen. I searched them anxiously to see if I met their approval. "This will certainly do," said Mr. Green Eyes, as he carefully placed me in a pretty blue box adorned with a blue bow. "She's in for a big surprise." I didn't know what to make of this commentary. Surprises are not always a good thing. The last thing I want is to spend the rest of my days in a dark bureau drawer or in a bin at Goodwill Industries. I'm not a snob or anything, but going to Goodwill would be devastating to me. I heard that some poor souls that go there get turned over to the Great Bottomless Landfill, where they remain dirty, damaged, and unloved for all eternity. Thinking about such a tragic end caused me to have a panic attack so intense that the pretty blue box began to shake. Terrified by this development, Mr. Green Eyes dropped the box.

I'm not sure that I'm magical like some people are saying. I'm what you call a compression garment. Those vertical rods they put in my side cause me to move body fat from one area to another less conspicuous area. I don't have a clue as to why this is important, but I keep hearing people say that this is some kind of wonderful. One lady said I was magical because I make ladies waists look smaller. Somebody else said that I was "orthopedic" and caused people's backs to feel better. But when it comes right down to it, I think the real magic came right after Mr. Green Eyes scooped me up in his arms and rushed up the stairs, panting heavily along the way. Waiting at the top of the stairs was the most lovely, gracious woman I had ever seen. She shrieked with delight the moment she saw me, and held me close to her with a warmth and affection I had never known before. For the first time since that frightful day in the cutting room, I felt safe and secure. Finally, I found my way home.

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We follow Penny's adventures to her new home in the closet. Romance and intrigue ensue- with unexpected consequences! Click on the following link to keep reading:

Part 2: Life in the Closet- the Musical