Warning: The Content of this blog post may be disturbing to some readers. Viewer discretion is advised. Just sayin’
Prancing about like a tart ranks alongside the North East Skinny Dip in terms of potential for embarrassment by getting involved in something which really gets les butterflies fluttering and a bit of adrenalin flowing. For some reason, not specially clear to me at all, tomorrow night I’m attending a halloween do at St Catherine’s Community Centre in Crook attired in fancy dress.
The original thought was to go as Franknfurter – that is to say, in a black waspie, pants, fishnet stockings, curly wig, arm sleevy things (sparkly for the use of…) and high heels and pearls. I ordered said uniform from that interweb thing and discovered, once they’d arrived, that the knickers were more than indecent, caused by the fixed suspenders pulling them down at the front (I don’t want to go into any more detail about this) and that the outfit was generally pretty cheap and nasty although I did quite like fishnet stockings (I have very nice legs as it happens) (never mock my legs by the way)
Happily, Dawn has come to the rescue. I asked her if she knew where I could get some size 10 high heels and not only did she source those, but also a very nice red and black basque…… you can see where this is going by now, I expect. Anyway, much gratitude goes to Dawn for help with the kit.
So, I’m not going to be Franknfurter, but Franknfurter’s transvestite Transylvanian brother. (Not thought up a name as yet)
Mrs Pieman has sourced some decent pants from Asda, had back-up suspenders in reserve and provided honest opinions once she stopped laughing. And I am the proud owner of a garter. Mrs Pieman is also helping with the false nails and eyelashes and in return, I’m cooking the spicy lentil and tomato soup (a Pieman specialty not involving any pork-based products at all.) I’ve painted my own toenails too, in antici……….pation.
I’ve also been practising by teetering about knipetowers in the high heels – and have been complimented by the postman on my neat ankles. The extra height has also given me a new outlook on life and I can now see the top of Mrs Pieman’s head, even when she’s standing up. I’ve also had to practise putting on the basque and developing a some new dressing techniques involving stockings and suspenders – the ones round the back are specially difficult and a nightmare for anyone with a stiff back. And I’ve had to check my appearance in the hallway mirror to make sure it’s all in the right places. The neighbours, however, are giving me some odd, knowing looks, but not actually saying anything.
The prospect of appearing like this scares the willy off me, which may well be No Bad Thing. But I appear to be committed (ought to be committed!) I have a little bottle of moral strengthener, as it were, to take beforehand.
Wish me luck.
I’m not sure how I got myself into this.
If you’ve been affected by any of the issues highlighted in this blog post, then call our helpline……
Somebody kidnap me before tomorrow….please…