07 August 2015

Twilight Zone: Stockings IV

o I had looked at two from my stocking bucket list. Sticking of the stockings and using heavy duty garters / straps. With sticking I was left with either hairs being pulled out or removing them beforehand. I optioned for the latter, it would mean more routine but I hoped less pain. 
I talked to MrsA about the results of my search and discussed the possibilities. She was fully d├ęcor with my conclusions, shave and stick. She dismissed the garters by passing over then very quickly. I could see she was trying to suppress a smile. But she held it back, well until I had left the room that is. I think if I had mentioned that I wanted to give them a go she would have started laughing but with a quizzical look of ‘why when sticking will do?’ 
A day later after returning from work, I was greeted with a kiss and a tube of Veet and a note with a scribbled link to WikiHow on applying and removing. I remarked that I thought I would be shaving them off. The answer was along the lines: with that jungle you will need a machete and a week and this is quicker and not so bloody. She had a point. 
After reading the instructions I was a little hesitant with all this 24h test run in case of allergy, leaving it no longer than 3 minutes otherwise your leg or something else will fall off. Also keep it clear from the eyes and if any does get in, wash it out and look for a doctor if you cannot see anything, you know the kind of warnings all in font point 6 and hardly readable. 
Well I wasn’t going to wait 24 hours to see if I came out in a rash and anyway I realised I was working towards something I had always want to do! So it was strip and apply, well strip was easy, the apply was not. It was like priming a bathroom wall with cement before sticking tiles up! Really hard work and as I never had to smear my legs in this way, a right contortion act as well! I was just over half way through one leg trying to make sure I covered everything evenly when the 3 minutes were up! I kept at it until the leg was finished. I waited a little longer and then started to scrape the goo off. I must say not the sweetest of smells and what a mess. And girls do this regularly, wow! I then rinsed and did the other leg. 
I sat down and as I looked at my shiny legs ran my fingers up and down them. There I was for the first time with hairless legs! Although as a kid I had hardly any hair on them, they were usually grimy not shiny! I was fascinated with the smoothness, it was so unusual, I knew it would take some time to get used to, but I also I realised that I never wanted to go back. The girl in me was clapping her hands and jumping about with joy knowing that in future, on the rare chances she gets to wear stockings and pantyhose, it will be without hairs getting in the way sensory as well as optically. The boy in me was only hoping this was going to help towards the stockings staying up. 
Every few minutes throughout the procedure I was being asked from downstairs if everything was ok. I shouted back that I was still alive. After a call “aren’t you finished yet?” I realised I had spent over half an hour doing my legs and admiring the results! I padded myself dry and donned a pair of shorts and went down for inspection. She checked everything with her critical eye, I had the feeling I was on parade. 
She asked me how it felt. My immediate reaction was, ah a trick question! But then I realised she was genuinely interested. I tried to stay nonchalant about it and just in case took on an ‘I suppose it must be’ attitude. I remarked it was ‘ok’ but a weird feeling. She just nodded. Out of habit (school teacher) when the inspection was over, I was given a B+. She took off points for missing a few hairs on the back of my legs. 
On retiring to bed, I had the new sensation of the bedclothes caressing my legs. The next morning getting ready to leave for work, with every movement I was aware of my legs. It was chilly outside and on the way to the car I realised that my legs were dam cold! I’m not usually sensitive to lower temperatures, it must my Celtic genes, but that morning I started to freeze, I really felt it in my legs. I had no idea that hair could be such a good insulation material! 
With this hairlessness, I decided to try commercial stockings again, not those home brew contraptions I was subjected to last time. I went back to my phlebologist told her my continuing sad story and the last escapade. She just rolled her eyes and handed me a new prescription this time for ‘proper’ stockings. Funny, she said nothing to the state of my legs after examining them. 
This time I went to the local sanitation house and asked for advice. They measured me up and gave me the appropriate model from another company not Jobst. They mentioned a contraption (see left) as helper but I thought I’m not that feeble just yet. 
What was really helpful was in showing me how to put them on using ‘special’ rubber gloves. Why nobody had informed me about them before I have no idea. I say special because they are not your common and garden washing up type, they are easier to put on and have knobs on the palms section that adhere better to the stocking material when pulling them up (see right), the ‘specialness’ had a price tag that went with them. They also stopped my nails wreaking havoc which was also a plus point. 
For sticking them down they sold me a roll-on. I went home with the feeling I was getting somewhere at last. The new stockings were a little tighter than my first pair. I had to use muscle to get them over my feet. Taking them off was also difficult, with having to pull away from the foot to finally remove them giving off a sound like a whip being cracked. Sticking them up was quite easy, it worked well, no slipping at all. On removing the stockings evenings I had to wash the excess glue off my legs otherwise everything would stick to them. I was recommended to wash the stockings daily, I think that’s was going a bit far. Up to now I do it every couple of days and only hand wash. I don’t trust myself with a washing machine, neither does MrsA. 
You have to make sure one uses enough glue, and the rubber band is clean otherwise a stocking could ‘release’ itself at an inopportune moment while walking. This happened one day at work on the way back from lunch. I recognised the signs of slipping stockings. I don’t usually carry with me a spare roll-on and I didn’t want to have to wait until I got home to stick again, so I went on a hunting trip. 
The problem was I was not sure where to go; there are no sanitation shops in the area that I knew of. What was on the high street was a hosiery shop. The shop window had stockings in all shapes, colours and patterns. When I’m out to lunch without any colleagues, I would slow down on going pass and look as unobtrusive as possible at what was on display. Some items were quite glamorous not your usual department store ware. I never saw any customers inside only someone sitting at a desk that I suspected was the owner. Now I had a half backed excuse to not only stop and look at the shop display, but to go in and ask if he had or knew where I could get some glue. I looked in through the shop door window to check if any customers were visible, all was clear so I entered. 

I have never seen such a collection of stockings and accessories on display in one place other than on Pinterest! It looked like a specialised shop for ‘specialised’ customers. I let Abigale take over for a moment and just stood there staring letting her fill our mental shopping basket. 
Then the owner approached and I heard a “Hello can I help, can I show you anything?” I turned, smiled and had that ‘I should be somewhere else’ feeling again but not strong enough to make a run for it. I complemented him on the displays and the range, saying I had never seen anything like it before. He thanked me, said he prided himself in catering for all tastes and asked if I was looking for anything in particular. 

I then explained in a somewhat embarrassed tone about my leg problem, having to wear stockings, one becoming unstuck, looking for glue and the off chance, as his shop had stockings – but of course not the same as mine, if he could help me in some way, this being my last hope. He took all this in, his face becoming sadder by the minute as I rambled on. When I had stopped, he placed a delicate hand lightly on my arm and said “Oh! You poor thing!” and went on that this was not really in his line. 
He started to ponder and as a help I mentioned that the glue was water soluble and something similar to that used by costume people in theatres for sticking hairpieces and moustaches etc. He lighten up somewhat, repeated the word ‘theatre’ and picked up the phone and started to dial. In between trying different numbers he mentioned he had friends in show business that may be able to help. I was going to thank him for taking the time and to say he didn’t have to go to so much trouble, but I could see he was in his element. 
I was not going to ask him what branch of ‘show business’ he meant, thinking about it I had a pretty good idea I knew anyway. I was plump in the middle of the cities LBGT Bermuda triangle. After about 4 to 5 conversations and no source for my glue, he put the phone down with a despondent look on his face. I must admit I was slightly relieved. If one of the calls had found a source, I imagined myself been sent off to the basement of a local bar to meet one of the girls/gurls who would have helped me stick the stocking back up. On the other hand it might have been interesting to get to ask what they use the glue for and ask to see. I know it wouldn’t be for falsies. I’ve tried, it doesn’t work. 

I was now sorry for him; he looked so unhappy that he couldn’t help. We talked a little and he mentioned the chemist, I must admit I never thought of it, it’s possible the fixation of getting to see the inside of the shop had suppressed the idea. As I was thanking him for his trouble, the shop door opened and two young elegantly dressed women entered. This was my cue to leave. I said I would let him know how I got on in the chemist. He nodded and seemed genuinely interested in the outcome. I checked and they did have one roll-on left and so I could stick and not wait until I was home. 

The next day on passing the hosiery shop I opened the door and as he was occupied with a customer I didn’t enter. I just said ‘hello’ gave him a smile and thumbs up about the glue. He looked pleased gave me a wave and a big smile. I waved back and left. I made a mental note that I would come back another time and let him show me some of the articles that where now in my shopping basket. 

In the office I was asked in passing why my lunch break had taken so long that day. I could honestly reply I was at the chemists, and not in a local gay bar, looking for glue. 

I need another break.

[Ed: Again!]

Yes, it’s getting sticky, weather wise not glue wise.

[Ed: Do you think we can finish next time?]

Most likely. Unless I remember some other antidotes.

[Ed: Gordon Bennett! Will this never end..]

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