My waist cincher is making me a monster.
Let me start this post by saying there are very few things I won’t try when offered or dared. Like if you take a sip of soda and it tastes weird, so you’re all, “I think the soda machine is out this tastes gross.” I will then take a sip of your drink to verify.
See also: smelling discolored meat and expired milk for usability.
The latest buzz to reach my ears has been waist training. All my friends are talking about it, Kim Kardashian is selfie’ing herself doing it, and I think the pope hashtagged it on twitter the other day. It’s hard to avoid.
Visions of Ann Margret rocking out a fabulous curvy hour glass in a bikini filled my head. How could I not try this? I could be the next 230lb Ann Margret! This is Elizabeth Bennet level shit, you guys!
So, I began to look around, researching blogs and articles on waist training, and it all sounded perfectly terrifying. The general concept is that the use of a steel-boned corset will gradually change the shape of your body. It’s not about weight loss, it’s body modification, and women are pretty hard core about it. Because I am hardcore about very few things in life, excluding Sour Patch Kids and Patty Griffin albums, I didn’t feel qualified to pull this off correctly. And I felt a little weird endorsing it since I’m not entirely sure how safe it is or where my organs are supposed to sit under normal circumstances. But still… it looked so cool.
Ugh, fine. Fine. You win Lizzie Bennet.
P.S. How many internet points do I get for having both the Virgin Mary and Slimer from Ghostbusters on my office bookshelf?
First thoughts, wow, I love the shape it gives me. I feel like a mix of Janet Jackson and someone who lifts the heavy boxes at Sam’s Club. I am already generally hourglass shaped, with my weight pooling in my thighs, boobs and arms, but this kicks it up a notch. I bought a LMB Waist Trainer Corset. It’s made of latex with a soft fabric lining. I’m basically a walking sex toy. Sizing on these waist cinchers is crazy important, pre-corset I was 38 inches at the smallest part of my waist (at the bottom of my rib cage, above my belly button), so I went with a 4X. DO NOT guess your sizing based on your regular clothing, measure, measure, measure. Wearing this corset, my waist is measuring at 36 on the first set of hooks, which only took me 10 minutes and and one bottle of tequila to put on.
I figured I’d give it a week. I’m on day 3, DAY 3, and I fully expect a family member to assassinate me. I’ve never been so miserably mean and hangry. Hungry angry. Hangry. Yeah my shape is fun, but holy hell, I can barely do things like eat, bend over or breathe heavily. And sitting fully erect sounds like a good thing, but I look ridiculous doing things like sitting on a couch or driving a car. Nobody looks cool driving a car like a right angle, y’all. It took me a second to realize why I’d been so incredibly irritable the past few day, but putting this corset on is like Frodo putting on the ring, I go from generally agreeable to an angsty asshole. I’ve read about this being a side effect, and it totally it. Maybe it’s because it’s hard to move, maybe it’s because it’s pushed my liver down into ass, maybe it’s because I sorta smell like a tire- I don’t know, but wearing it keeps me pretty short fused. I know, I should basically be a spokesperson for corsets.
1. It’s fun and it gives my clothes an edgy shape.
2. I feel like a total sex kitten wearing it. There’s this underlying vintage femininity to it. Total personal turn on.
1. It’s kinda hard to get shit done while wearing this.
2. I turn into the Hulk.
3. It’s hot. Hey brainiac, maybe try waist cinching in NOT 90 degree weather!?
The Verdict: Wearing this for 6 hours a day for 6 weeks is not going to happen, so progressing to more serious corset training isn’t in the cards for me. For for isolated wear or bedroom fun? Absolutely!
And for anyone wondering why on Earth I would wear something like this if I supposedly love my body, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare attempt to shame or discredit my self confidence because I enjoy playing with fashion and beauty. You don’t get to determine the perimeters of the relationship I have with this skin. I’m allowed to have fun in my body. I’m allowed to tattoo it and worship it and curse it and walk around in a corset that makes me feel like Jessica Rabbit if I want to. And so are you.