I can’t breathe. I’m getting ready for my night out, and i’m sitting here in a squeezy too tight red corset, massive eyelashes, the highest of heels…unable to move, breathe or function. Beauty is PAIN!! My corset fitted me an hour ago!! I got fat in an hour!! UGH!! I’m so over my birthday…and it hasn’t even really started yet! It’s raining, so i’m having to take my booty shorts off, and put trousers on…so i don’t DIE of cold, on my FUCKING birthday…goddamit!! UGH! And yes, my birthday outfit is highly slutty, ( i have a leopard print bra peering under my corset…like a Hoe) but i’m trying to hold onto my youth….so shut it! I’m clinging onto my tweenties, like my life depended on it. I’m doing it ungracefully. But thats how i work.
I think i just want my evening of merriment to get started. I hate sitting around twiddling my thumbs, without breathing. Fuck…i really do have to take this thing off!! It’s really painful. I don’t know how prostitues do it?? I’m sure they trundle around in these things like they’re pyjamas. I have a love/ hate relationship with corsets! I swear, i’ll just walk into a bar, show-off my corset for a good 2 seconds, everyone will look..i will shout ‘IT’S MY BIRTHDAY..’ there will be cheers of joy and then i will PASS OUT!! I can’t fucking breathe!! Whoever invented corsets is a bastard.
Chrissie Wunna x