I've now started to paint my nails daily (MrsA bought me the varnish, her idea). Use day and night creams on a regular bases (also her idea). Shave my legs (my idea) and wear every day either stay-up stockings (usually black for business) or hose in various colours (grey, makeup etc.), a pair in navy blue hose is on my shopping list.
How does that sound?
Maybe you are getting the idea that Abigale has finally 'broke free' to miss quote Freddy Mercury and that MrsA has been at last informed of what I get up to when I disappear into the cellar some evenings. Well before you all start to scroll down to the comment area to congratulate me on my progress, you can do that of course anyway. I must inform you that home wise and any other location on this planet, Abigale is still in the twilight zone.I must clarify that the above activities are in principle correct, but as with all news headlines in certain tabloids, one must turn to page three and read the small print under the well-endowed girl (my father’s words). Therefore, I must inform you that all the listed activities are carried out while Abigale is nowhere to be seen.
[Ed: what do you mean nowhere in sight! she is right there in the middle of it!]
Yes, ok your right, somewhat in the background with this and not to happy, especially with the stockings.
[Ed: okay explain]
I was going to...
I’ll start with the stockings.
What I now wear daily are no means my favourite and what I would like to wear have a very different den. It started about 4 years ago when my lower legs and ankles would swell up over the day. The type of swelling where any socks I would wear left deep grooves, almost a circulation stopper and my feet felt like they would burst. It looked like I had tied up my legs with rope (no, I’m not into bondage). This was not surprising as I do little sport, my BMI was and is not that brilliant, and you will usually find me sitting starring bleary-eyed at one or more computer screens depending on if I’m at work or home. A static couch potato in fact and an advocate of “No sports” apart from viewing.
[Ed: please note that on the rare occasions when work is not taken home, all hobbies have at least one dedicated computable device in there somewhere, hence there is always at least one screen glowing in the house and a motionless gestalt in front of it.]
Thanks for reminding me, IDT! If I may say so you are pretty active in this post.
[Ed: True, it’s only because I know you are having difficulty getting it moving and thought I would give you time to think about what you want to say.]
Well yes, there is that. It’s funny how you know these things. I will do my best to keep going so you don’t need to butt in.
[Ed: You’re the boss.]
? ..
Okay where was I?
Yes, swollen lower legs and ankles.
I started to wear sneaker socks that just covered the ankle joint so as not to induce the grooves over the day. This worked, but the swelling of course didn’t go away. Also I was getting funny looks and remarks from one of my colleagues in business meetings when my trousers would slide up while sitting and 'expose' my bare ankles. What his eyes were doing looking down there instead of concentrating on the meeting I have no idea. It’s not like I was a Victorian woman showing ankle to all and sundry and have people fainting all over the place!
Anyway, MrsA eventually badgered me into going to see my phlebologist. I had occasionally in the years passed vein inflammations. At these times for a few weeks I became a heparin junky. To help the blood flow I had to keep my legs up on my office desk with keyboard on me lap. This provided an excuse for snide remarks of my co-workers when passing by.
To top this I also have varicose veins in one leg, fortunately only on the surface and not deep which could lead to a deep vein thrombosis (DVT) and possibly an OP. Of course, all these things are connected and I thought at first the swellings were a symptom of the varicose veins, lack of exercise and bad circulation in the one leg, but as the swellings got worse and started to appear in both legs I went for a check-up. I usually have to be pushed or dragged to the doctors, unless it’s drastic that is.
Funny, but on top of the normal “oh do I really have to” look I give MrsA by the mention of a medical check-up, I was also reluctant to visit my “leg doctor” again. I have known her a long time and we have worked together in the past, but I was still, let’s say apprehensive about turning up. I think it has to do with that most of her clientele are women and I felt, would you believe, slightly embarrassed. It could also have been the uneasiness I felt about the cold jell being pressed painfully into the legs with echo lode noises gasping from the ultrasound transducer in the background. Although I love anything High Tech, I’m not so happy when it’s used on me! Ok, a phlebologist is in no way comparable to having to go to a gynaecologist, which is not on my radar at the present, if ever.
[Ed: It’s never too late to go to one’s gynaecologist..]
Leave it!
Anyway I made an appointment and we talked and I got my dose of cold jell and we talked and she explained that my venous values at the top of my upper legs where on the blink, leading to chronic venous insufficiency (CVI). It turned out that the little chaps were not capable of returning enough blood back up to the heart, hence the oedemas down below.
Great I thought, now what!
Again we talked, there was mention of stripping. I remember me Mum going through this in her 40s. It would have been nice if she could have least kept them for herself. Also there was talk of the dreaded surgical stockings, which if I understood correctly would mean immediate use with the option of possibly forever!
[Ed: I was wondering how long it was going to take to get there!]
Yes, the preamble was a little long but here we are! The infamous ugly drab sweat inducing surgical stockings!
Right, I thought you asked for it, an emerging girl to decrepit grandmother in one fell swoop!
I won’t say I was depressed, ok alright, I was.
As I was taking this all in she rummaged around in her freebie/sample cupboard and handed me a pair of stockings with a “try these, they should fit”. I took the package stared at the colour through the plastic cover and sighed. On turning it over my eyes fell on a picture of a lovely woman with thin sleek legs that went all the way up (see picture). Ok, I was not naïve in thinking that the stockings would turn me into this lovely creature, but hey, I would make the best of it!
I thanked her, went home with my so-called “girly prize” and told MrsA the results of my visit. She was naturally concerned at first about the diagnosis until I handed her the stockings and on seeing the cover, she started to giggle which ended up in uncontrollable laughter! I cannot say I hadn’t expected this and eventually I joined in to defuse it somewhat.
What I didn’t expect was the mixed feelings I was getting. On the one hand, embarrassment having to now wear stockings every day and in “public” to boot (whatever the den) and on the other of a growing excitement of having it “official”, wear stockings like the woman on the packaging!
[Ed: In no way does she need to wear those type of stockings! Its pure advertisement.]
I know, I know, can’t I have at least one illusion in all this!
Oh! just seen how late it is, sorry have to go and wash my stockings and then polish my nails. Next time I’ll relate my “first walk around" experience in them and how they got ruined within days and the consequences there from.
[Ed: For those who are interested in the make and model they were from Jobst and from the series ‘Ultra Sheer’, which she finds are the “sexy” ones under the compression stockings and why MrsA couldn’t stop laughing at the prospect of "him" having to wear them.]
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