Falling bra straps are for me a source of immense discomfort and anxiety. Like, I mean, not physical pain, just a permanent obsessive feeling of something not being right, a constant quest to bring them up and terminate the annoyance.
Alike the chinese water drop, a situation that seems initially benign turns into a fiendish torture as time proceeds.
Consequently, how silly, despite loving them, I have a problem with Carmen shirts or dresses. Yes, those lovely shirts with wide elastic decollete that stay below the shoulder line without straps, resting on the boobs.
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| Distress, I can't get used to this lovely type of shirts as they exacerbate my falling bra straps anxiety. |
Despite my efforts I could not till now bring myself to accept the vulnerability of Carmen shirts and their unavoidable characteristic perception of falling bra straps.
The ones that I own are not the real deal, they cheat, have straps to soothe my worries.
Can't help it. Or ? Maybe with extra acceptance training ? Summer's coming after all.
Would so much like to savor a cocktail in an airy Carmen dress, exposed, vulnerable, right there under the stars in the cozy comfort of my terrace with just a candle light to play with the warm darkness.
There I am. A newly purchased for the purpose dress with the critical, rather loosely elasticized decollete. Enough material to keep it low, never mind the horrible printed motifs, price tag matters more than style for the intended exercise.
Obviously an oldish rarely worn supermarket grade bra that has seen little use due to it's perpetually falling straps. And an extender to make things worse.
The distress is immediate, straps start their downhill ride even before I'm finished with the full-slip.
Yes, I know, a full slip is a major style offense here, but it's my turn of events so spare me the sermon.
Precisely, a wide straps full slip to add sensory protection at this stage of my progression.
Then the dreaded dress. In fact the truth is that I'll love to love it. But for now I just fear it.
In a way I feel vulnerable in it, kind of almost unwillingly exposed at the mercy of too much out of control elastics.
Paralyzing. What will happen when and if I move? Where are my bra straps? Is that they on my upper arms or is the dress falling with them? Will it clutch on my boobs or just fall down my legs?
Adjust, put things back? No. I have to resist that temptation.
First exercise, the coffee machine.
Please, someone, put me in bondage, I won't hold my will not to adjust things for much longer.
Nevertheless nothing falls further as I move to my office. It all kind of reached a stable seemingly precarious equilibrium.
The bra straps are now horizontal falling way below the dress neckline and hammer my brain with distress signals.
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| Learning how to properly wear a Carmen dress. |
So here's the deal. If I can manage to write this post without interfering with my exposing dress and obsessive distress of falling bra straps, I'll treat myself with a proper bra that stays put no matter what and attempt the experience again less the protection of my slip.
A strapless would be more than appropriate though. Indeed, this is another scary zone, the only strapless bras that I can tolerate are either solidly boned corsets or alike robust items that do not trigger my loose falling straps syndrome.
Wow. I bravely endured my phobia of falling bra straps and wearing a dress resting on my boobs below shoulder level seems an affordable option.
That's all I have for you today, minor Sissy hassles or further immersion in femininity, you decide.
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