It is amazing how widespread is the belief that a tightly laced old style wasp-waist corset is painful to the wearer and detrimental to health. Yet, is this belief justified? I believe an ounce of experience weighs more than a pound of surmise based on prejudice. The proof of the pudding is in the eating thereof.
When about thirteen, I came under the tutelage of an aunt, a confirmed tight lacer, whose two daughters were brought up the same way and who at sixteen and eighteen had delightfully slender waists as the result of rigorous tight lacing. To cure my propensity to stooping and to improve my posture, my aunt put me into a stiffly boned, small-waisted corset, which she laced tightly, making me wear it beneath my boy’s clothes.
My protests were unavailing, for Aunt Jane remained adamant. As soon as I was unobserved, I unlaced my corset and took it off – not because it hurt me, but because I felt stiff and awkward under the unaccustomed constriction, and also because I did not like the idea of wearing a corset at all. Little good it did me though.
As soon as my aunt discovered what I had done, she punished me severely for my disobedience and then laced me up as tightly as ever. Insubordination was something my aunt did not tolerate.
To escape Aunt Jane’s strict discipline, I did then a very foolish thing – I attempted to run away that night, was caught in the act and put to bed by my aunt who made sure that I could not repeat my at tempt to escape during the remainder of the night.
The next morning she took a step, which was as ingenious as it was effectual to prevent me from ever again trying to escape her control: She took away all my clothes and locked them up. Then she informed me that henceforth I should be dressed like a girl. My protests, more emphatic than tactful, earned me a sound whipping and soon convinced me that it did not pay to rebel against my aunt’s orders. Since my size was the same as my younger cousin’s, I was speedily laced up in my corset, my feet were squeezed into a pair of tight-fitting pumps with tapering high heels, and I soon found myself dressed up like a girl. Of course, even when laced, my waist was too large to get into my cousin’s form-fitting dresses; therefore, I was made to wear only loose dresses over my tight corset, until my waist had been sufficiently attenuated.
Henceforth, after my morning ablutions, I had to don my high heeled slippers, tighten my corset lacers until my wais t was the size ordered by my aunt – I had to reduce it a quarter of an inch each week, dress, and then present myself for inspection before my aunt, who was exacting in the matter of dress. No relaxation of the lacers was permitted during waking hours, nor was I ever permitted to doff my slippers before bedtime.
The high heels bothered me at first. The muscles of my feet and the calves of my legs ached, so that I was barely able to walk; but neither tears nor pleas for permission to take off my slippers even for a few minutes were of avail.
“You are no worse off than any girl w ho wears high heels for the first time; you will soon get used to them,” was Aunt Jane’s verdict – and I had to suffer until time proved her to be right.
Of course, I felt oppressed and uncomfortable in my stiff, tight corset, as it was laced tighter and tighter, week after week. I could no longer run, jump, and romp about in the accustomed manner, but was obliged to walk about with dignity and decorum. At no time, however, did I suffer pain – discomfort, yes. I must admit, however, that the irksomeness of the constraint was also accompanied by a rather pleasant feeling of comfortable support in the unrelenting grip of my tight corset. Soon I learned to breathe with the upper chest and after a few months, my waist had been reduced to the same size as that of my cousins, about sixteen or seventeen inches, and no further attenuation of it was considered necessary.
After I had worn my corset thus tightly, the feeling of discomfort and irksomeness gradually disappeared and I began to enjoy the sensation of being held in the firm grip of a very tightly laced corset.
Thus, for nearly three years, as the pupil and ward of my aunt, I was as severely corseted as any girl; yet, I suffered no pain, my health was excellent and I did not have a day’s illness during all that time. At sixteen, I left my aunt’s and resumed male dress. However, I have never lost my admiration for a tiny corset and I sincerely regret that the delightful practice of tight lacing has gone out of fashion. Especially, since I know from personal experience that the usual objections to it are unfounded. If women today would only realize what a remarkable improvement in one’s figure an old-style hourglass corset can bring about, even if it is only moderately drawn together. Not only that it “does things” to a woman’s figure,’ but it also provides a comfortable uplift support which no modern corset or girdle can give.
MY FEMINIZATION DIARY - feminization of myself
more feminization stories and a new design
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORIES a whole new set and more are to be come. And I've also changed the design. Aah, and don't forget to subscribe, if you love it ;)