Scorpion stings and masquerades
The last entry was a bit terse towards the end, and for that I apologize. Towards the end of writing it, my daughter was stung by a scorpion and I had to step away to take care of her. The post became good enough at that point.
She’s doing alright, but if the muscle spasms continue or get worse past this hour, that means a trip to the ER to make sure she’s not having a severe reaction.
While I wait and watch her, I’ve pulled out the components for my Grand Masquerade outfit that I am putting together for the black tie formal event at the Succubus Club.
In all candor, I’m very overweight at this point in my life. The fact that my lovely daughter wears my first corset is at times, emotionally painful to me. However, the subject of my weight ties in with health issues, and will be addressed in future posts.
I have some lovely dresses and costumes despite my weight, but the problem does not actually rest in the waist, but in the chest. I have always been well endowed, and it has always been a problem when choosing clothing. Over the years, I have gotten quite good at obfuscating them unless I am in an environment where people will still be able to tell me the color of my eyes the next day.
So the debate on how to put together my costume basically boils down to: flaunt them or not.
A part of me wants to say, fuck it, and flaunt them, full sails set with a bodice. Their sheer size however, makes that the vulgar option.
Most of me wants to be classy and refined for a number of reasons, including the fact that I am going as a representative of White Wolf and should be professional in all that I do. Not to mention, I would give our team alpha a heart-attack if I did otherwise.
Some of the issues that I am pondering include the mask that I’m making. I was dead set on a gargoyle mask. I have the horns ready to attach and the plans all drawn up. A gargoyle mask however, does not quite fit with any of the outfits that I have on hand – at least not without a lot of modification.
What it is basically boiling down to is embracing my Nosferatu – Cleopatra side, or the Toreador in me.