First off I inched the bodycon
Dress carefully over my head,
I’d left the hips ’til last but it
Got stuck on my bust instead.
So I’d the whole dress wrapped
Around me like a bandeau bra,
But I could not concede …
Not when I had come this far.
With a clench of my buttocks,
I squeezed my hour-glass inside,
And surveyed myself in the mirror:
A vision of compressed thighs.
Although, for someone slimmer
It was a snappy little number,
I was posing no threat at all
To anybody else’s thunder.
So eager to regain my freedom,
I moved at a rapid pace,
Forgetting the old adage,
I turned bright scarlet in the face.
And then blue as the synthetic,
Fibres made it hard to breathe,
I should have paid the 7 quid,
To be cut out of it and leave.
But I hasten to admit that
I would have rather died,
So as long as I tell no one …
There’s no damage to my pride.
Pam Ski
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