Stockings VI

mentioned in Stockings III, that I was thinking about trying out suspender belts as a way of keeping my compression stocking up. Here the flashback:
.. I talked to MrsA about the results of my search and discussed the possibilities. She was fully décor 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?..

So originally I went for sticking. I have no problem with sticking apart from the stickiness and having to buy a new roll-on every few months. On removing the stockings one has to wash off the tide mark from the residue glue on ones thighs so it doesn't stick ones legs to the next garment one wears, ok one gets into the routine of things but still. 

In part II, I mentioned that I was recommended by Daria the 6-strap suspender belt from RAGO (code 72522 if you want to take a deco). But at the time they didn’t look up to it, for my stockings I thought I would needed a more robust construction. 
As one knows the majority of the suspender belts out there are for, let's say, somewhat flimsy materials. One of the things that got me going again was when I saw a recession on Amazon saying they worked well for compression stockings (it was from a man interesting enough).
[Ed: And what was the other thing that ‘got you going again’?]

We…ll, I really was looking for any excuse to wear suspenders with my stockings every day. Yes I admit it, even if the stockings are to compress and not look chic, even if they will be invisible all the time under trousers instead of a short skirt. I will at least know they are there and be aware of them most the day.
Ok, so I told myself these were good excuses to go for it, one is only old once. What MrsA would say when she would see them I pushed to the back of my mind and would jump that girdle sorry hurdle when I came to it.
I checked out Amazon, the US didn't have them in my size and in Germany I couldn't find them on Prime or anywhere else. But UK Amazon did have them, so they ended up in the basket. In the payment area I was greeted with a message that informed me that the destination address I had selected for this article was not allowed!

Brilliant, now what! 

As I was now fixed on having them, I decided to send them to K; a confederate in Wales so that she could send them on here with the normal post.

I added some books for her and also took the opportunity - as I couldn't find them anywhere else - to order some mint press-on nails which had one pretty patterned nail for each hand and a set of matt black with a gold band. I can always find excuses to order a few ‘little’ things which end up as a lot of little things if I’m not careful.. I was thinking of having the nails sent direct to Germany but although they were only £3 a set they wanted £10 P&P each! One has to be careful with so-called under priced goods, the end price is usually on par with other sellers, but by reclamation one only gets the value of the goods back, not the P&P.

[Ed: More on nails in a nail dedicated post and other adventures with P&P while buying on-line.]
 
This was all a bit round the houses, but I was in no hurry and it would save postage in the long run. The order arrived in Wales in one piece, books extracted rest repacked and given up at the local post office.

It’s now 2 months and still no sign of them, the parcel just disappeared! An official search hasn’t brought any results until now and I don’t expect one either. A real shame as I can't get the nails anywhere near the price I paid, and I really fell for them! 

Dam stupid Welsh post! This is not the first time a parcel didn’t arrive. K sent us a Christmas package once, it turned up 6 months later back in Wales as undeliverable! I don't think it ever left the county let alone the country! I suspect this time that in the lawless Welsh Wild West that the stage coach was held up by bandits armed with loaded leeks (or am I thinking of lupines?) anyway some local farm produce or other. 

Anyway, in the meantime I looked around for another source for the suspenders and finally found an online shop in the UK (stockingshq.com) who would deliver to me here. What clinched it was they let me pay using my Amazon account which saved me flaunting my credit card details in another online shop. Must say they have some interesting garments on store, maybe I’ll look back now and then ... 
They arrived with no problem and I have them a couple of weeks now, at the moment still ‘unofficial’. That is MrsA doesn’t know they have arrived. Well she doesn’t know I ordered them again for that matter! She does know the Welsh post had lost the original package. Of course as the suspender belt was semi ‘official’ not pure Abigale I just happened to mention in passing - as one does when telling your wife you have ordered yourself a pair of 6 strapped suspenders - that I had decided to try out an alternative to sticking with all this stickiness etc.
As I had her attention and was in full swing, I told her I had ordered ‘heavy duty’ suspenders from an US company via Amazon instead of the National Health ones that I talked to her about. I went on about having them sent to K in Wales (leaving out the bit about the press-on nails of course).

[Ed: If the pictures here are anything to go by, I’m glad you didn’t say ‘sexy’!]
 

Yes! I had to hold back in my narrative, not easy! They are not that ‘sexy’, but they aren’t ex-army NATO green war worn either. They are well made, nice material, fit well and well a little.. um .. ok a little sexy ...  I won’t say I was trying to play them down with MrsA as just a practical medical piece of ‘equipment’, as with my compression stockings, but I didn’t want her getting nosy at this stage by asking to see them on-line to get an idea what they would look like. These here are some of the first pictures one will find in the net taken from the web site. Finding these would not help trying to keep it all low key.

 
Well on finishing my 'patter' she didn’t give me that look of ‘what’s he up to’. She accepted it without comment; her attitude was anything that would help to ease coping with my leg problem on a daily basis was above board, classical female connotations or not. Since then she hasn’t mentioned it or asked for a status quo, so she has probably forgotten about it or added it to the low priority list of things to remember. 
The next thing to do, apart from telling you my experience with them, is to think up a story to 'hey look what arrived in the post at work today!' and 'now let’s see if they can cope with my stockings' and so on.. 
I must say this will not be our first joint action with garters and stockings ..
  
[Ed: More in another “windows:” post. If I mention the Rocky Horror Show then you may have an idea of what to expect.]
 
.. but this time I need to get it just right if I’m going ‘official’ with wearing them regularly. I’m not too sure how to go about this. 

I will have to monitor her response very carefully to see how she feels about me wearing them per se. I think knowing about them would be ok, but I have a little angst when she is confronted with seeing me putting them on or removing them. At the moment (pre revealing) and after she knows about them, I will have to watch my timing. I don’t think it’s going to be good idea when she unexpectedly comes in and catches me in ‘action’ similar to the picture left.

[Ed: nice panties! Any chance you wearing something similar to work in future?]
No! umm .. well it will depend on what you place under the Christmas tree.  
[Ed: I asked for that, didn’t I..]
Yep! 

Also I must make sure she doesn’t get the idea I want the suspender belt for other reasons, which I don’t really. I have a few other garters for ‘proper’ stockings that I would rather wear and are a lot easier to fasten. But as said, this could be a step in the direction to being able to wear suspenders on a regular bases... 
[Ed: It’s not as if you can only use them for the compression stockings.]
True, thinking about it, they would go nicely with those white lace top pair I have… 

Which brings me to the preliminary results of my ongoing field test. 

I have had them on for work (not at home) about 8 times to-date, whenever I had the chance not to be interrupted when putting them on. The main problem is although the belt and straps can support my compression stockings, the clips are for normal ‘flimsy’ stockings. The picture right shows the classical type of clip. 
When placing the stocking top over the nipple..  
[Ed: nipple? are you sure that’s the name, because..]
I have no idea what it is called! Nipple will do! Okay?  
[Ed: Ok registered, nipple it is.]
 
I thought this was going to be easy, the first time I tried I went for the usual routine of attachment. I have some experience with putting on stockings, it’s not rocket science and one gets the knack quick enough even with the blind tactile hock up at the back (see bending down picture above). 
But this time I found myself in learning mode all over again. Normally when the stocking top is placed over the nipple there is enough space to put the wider part of the loop over, press down and easily pull up to fasten. With my stockings it’s a major battle of tug and war. The material is just too thick; the stocking top has also 3 rubber bands as they are to function as stay ups, which works only in part in my case, hence the sticking. 

Here in ‘stuck up’ mode are my latest pair of stockings in Anthracite (Jobst, Ultra sheer). I think you can imagine the thickness of the stocking top and see the 3 light bands where the rubber strips are. The shine is typical of the Ultra Sheer model, quite like them. Don’t see why I can’t take the advantages available. 

With trial and error the only way to reduce the thickness while attaching, is to place the nipple under the stocking top pull the nipple and stocking up and away from the leg to stretch and ‘thin’ out the material. 
Not that easy due to the nature of the stocking, their ‘programmed’ to give support and will fight against any ‘over’ stretching manoeuvre one tries, and girl these are tough! So under tension and hovering in the air, one has to get the loop over into position, press hard down keeping tension squeezing the ‘thin’ material and without losing one’s grip, pull the loop up parallel to the leg to fasten.
  
[Ed: Not sure if they understood that, maybe you should make a video..]
  I think we will have to have a serious talk sometime. 
 [Ed: ! I was only try in to help..]
 
To begin with there was a lot of dams and twangs, followed by mini whiplashes that made one jump, followed again with more under the breath dams. Well I now have the knack and with only a few mishaps have all 6 straps fastened in under the minute. 
Okay that was to the first fastening of the day, now to wearing them. 
Unusual is the word I would use. 
Especially when I have to go to the rest room to ‘hook up’ one or two straps that have silently ‘twanged’ while walking around in the office. It’s usually the ones at the front, again to do with tension. While siting they are slack and somehow ease themselves lose, at the back no problem, the sides now and then. The first few days I would go and re-hook whenever I felt a twang, it was nice and quite novel. 
After being asked by some of my staff if I was alright and the mention of incontinence, I left it. Over the day I realised that just one strap would ‘hold the fort’ until I got home, or until had to spend a penny anyway. As I’m sitting here at work and writing this I can feel the straps and clips through the material and the ones at the back as I’m sitting on them, interesting and still, as said, unusual. 

Sometime ago I was talking to a girlfriend in London about this and that and I brought her up-to date about having to wear stockings and that I started to shave my legs etc. basically my stocking saga in twitter format, not mentioning Abi at all, as she is not in the know. At the end of my ‘confession’ she chucked and welcomed me to the ‘world of women’ without realising how close to the mark she was..
  
[Ed: You nearly spilled the beans didn’t you!]
 
Oh yes, that was a close call! We know each other over 40 years, a very close call indeed! Maybe I will tell her one day but not over the phone. Funny but I’m not sure if it would be a surprise to her, the last time we were together we were talking about a mutual friend that had SRS. I brought up the fiasco with the Welsh post and ask her if I could use her as a possible post box for a reorder of the suspender belt. We talked about the pros and cons of garters against pantyhose. Her opinion was to go for pantyhose, with her experience over the years garters where more trouble than they're worth, nice for special occasions but not routine every day. Maybe I will come to the same conclusion if the twanging continues.

[Ed: And so, what next?]

Well for my next buy I still have the navy blue pantyhose in my sights. I have also found from Jobst a patterned pair of stockings (here in Espresso). I really like patterned stockings and I thought this would be an ideal combination, but they have them at the moment only in CCL1 (20-30 mmHg) such a shame, I need CCL2 (30-40 mmHg).

 [Ed: Ok. They may be not the ideal strength, but better than nothing, you could wear them for relief at the weekends.]
 
No! They would have to be stored in my Stash and only come out to go on in an Abi session. If MrsA got wind of these pattered pair, the penny would drop and never stop spinning on impact. Here I would have to be very careful, maybe only for ‘special occasions’ as my girlfriend put it. 

Will let you all know how I get on with making the suspender belt an official member of my underwear entourage. 
[Ed: Ah! suspenders today - bras tomorrow?]
Don’t get carried away, time will tell.. 

So that’s all for now. As the festive season is before the door and I have been going on about stockings and keeping them up, Ed: thought this picture would be appropriate. If this is a hint for a present or not I’m not sure.     
[Ed: Well.. you can take it any way you want.] 
So from Ed: and I, all the best to you and your love ones for the rest of this and the up and coming new year. 
May you have the strength and love to be as one with yourself wherever you are on your journey and at the end of the day to arrive home safe and sound. 

Extra thanks to those of you for getting this far in this post. I know it’s a long haul and I appreciate you taking the time to read and I hope comment.

[Ed: By the way I still think the video was a good idea..]
Will think about it, ok?

Stockings V

fter a time my hair started to reappear (on my legs that is), and I decided it was time to start shaving and keep them at bay. I went on the search for new shaving equipment as I couldn’t see myself regularly ‘Veet-ing’ in the months to come. Using Veet cream to remove them the first time was a good idea, now I needed to wield an appropriate combat blade. My normal razor for my face, that I use occasionally to remove the small number of hairs that dare to push spontaneously through to the light of day, would not cope with the revengeful hoard of hair that my legs brought fourth.
I had to choose, it was either a razor for men or women. The girl in me got the upper hand and I went for Gillette’s 5 blade Venus Embrace Sensitive starter pack and Satin Care shaving cream. The idea was to convince MrsA, as she was now thinking again about shaving instead of seasonal Veet-ing, that we could use the same make of blades. As she didn’t say directly ‘no’, I took it as a ‘yes’ and added for her a Gillette Venus und Olaz starter pack to the Amazon basket. I must say I never thought that we would both end up shaving our legs, but we are.

[Ed: you never thought that we would end up varnishing your nails together either.]

on my face True.

After the package arrived, together we checked what we had and how to use them. As she could never find the right shaving cream in the past she was quite taken back by what I had ordered for her with the ‘build in’ shaving gel. Of course it was not going to be rocket science, but MrsA is a stickler for reading instructions. So every text she could find in and on the packaging was read through aloud at least twice. I let her ‘experiment’ first to see how she would fair. She came back happy with how easy it was and with not having to lather up beforehand. 
On this high note I too went through the motions in the shower. Not that easy trying to get to all parts of a leg while standing on the other. It was well worth the effect, as they were smooth again. After the shave, MrsA gave me some moisturising cream to apply. I would never had thought of it on my own, even though I realised that the skin was quite sensitive and tingled somewhat for the rest of the day. I have now a routine of shaving every two weeks. If I know I will have the chance to dress, I unobtrusively do an extra session.

As I’m on about shaving, I’ll give a little background to the experience of it or shall we say the lack of it when growing up.

[Ed: Here we go again, you and your anecdotes! This is why it’s taking so long!]

I promise this is the last part. Honest, let all my stockings ladder if it isn’t.

[Ed: I’ll believe it when I see read it, okay carry on..]

At school when hair started to appear on the faces of my male class mates they would start to talk about nothing else. Going on about how often they ‘had’ to shave, comparing the location of growth, and before leaving school, the shade of their four o’clock shadows. It was like a competition, the more hair the more bragging. I was just the opposite; to find any hair on my face apart from eyebrows you needed a magnifying glass and a lot of imagination. Nothing in sight for many years it turned out. 

At the time I was glad I didn’t have to shave. I saw my father every day struggling with a cutthroat or hand razor and leaving the house with the classic bits of tissue paper stuck to his neck and face. 
No thank you!
I didn’t even look at his razor if I could help it, on the off chance it woke up the gene for facial hair and then all hell would have been let loose on the face front. I didn’t feel left out in this ‘hairy phase’ and I wasn’t harassed at school for my hairlessness, but for hanging out more with the girls than the boys. About a year later I could hear among my ‘shaving friends’ that it was not at the top of the list of things they wanted to do before leaving home in the morning, I just smiled. Well, years later that gene did wake up, but that’s another story in a future post. 

It was time for a new pair of stockings as back up. We can get a prescription every 6 months for a new pair, but one still has to pay 25€ towards the costs. They usually go for about 100€s in shops and about 70-80€ in the Net depending on make. I started to look around as I needed a pair to go under my business suit. 

No, not for a woman’s business suit, although I had my eye on a grey pencil skirt to go with my mint silk blouse, strappy sandals and nail vanish…...
[Ed: hey! stop day dreaming and get moving.]

Yes .. err .. sure, maybe one day (sigh). I had the problem that the legs of my trousers had the tendency to ride up when sitting and expose my ankles and a little bit more leg than they should. With the standard compression stocking colour, it was obvious what I had on. Usually I have no problem with this, but it’s not always appropriate when a customer gets to see them and it becomes a small talk topic in the coffee break! I decided this time to go for a pair in black, which would give the illusion I had normal black socks on.

Well it seems I had little choice with colours, to my surprise the only black ones I found in my compression strength (23-32 mmHg, CCL2) was again from Jobst in their ultra-sheer selection. But first I need a new prescription and as I had to go to my internist for a check-up I asked if he would give me one, no problem. I went back to the same sanitation house as last time to order them and was looking forward to see how the shop assistant will react to my order. 
It went something like this:
“Morning!”
“Good morning!”
“I’m here about a new pair of compression stockings.”
“Ok, do you have a prescription?”
“Yes”. I handed it over.
“Sorry but I have a problem with this.”
“Oh! In what way?”
"The wording is not quite correct. We will have difficulty getting reimbursement with the medical insurance company if the text is not exactly how they want it.”
“Oh!” I said.
“Here, this is the exact text that has to be used.”
She scribbled it down and handed me the slip of paper.
“Sorry about that.”
With a blank look I stared at it a while comparing it to the text on the prescription.
“Ok, can’t be helped, I’ll be back.” and left.

Forty five minutes later and a different person behind the counter. 

“Morning!”
“Good morning!”
“I’m here about a new pair of compression stockings.”
“Ok, do you have a prescription?”
“Yes”. I handed it over.
“Is the text correct now?” I enquired.
“?.. Yes quite all right, why do you ask?”
“Well I was here a short while ago and the prescription wording was not 100% correct.”
“Yes can happen, I see your internist gave you this not your phlebologist.”
“Yes, I told him what I needed.”
“That explains it. He is not used to writing prescriptions of this kind.”
“Looks like it, understandable I suppose.”
“Right, have you been here before?”
“Yes, about an hour ago.”
“?... No, I mean have you had stockings from us in the past?"
“Sorry, yes I have.”
“Then I’ll check your records.”
She wandered off.

In the mean time I studied the advertisements in the shop and my focus fell on the Jobst ultra-sheer ad displayed on the front of the counter. Ah navy blue! That would go with jeans quite well and those dark blue heels I saw..

She wandered back.
“Ok then, same again?”
“No, I have written down what I would like this time.”

I had copied down the cryptic contents of the faded label from the original Jobst stockings. At the time I had no idea what half of the parameters meant. I only left out what I recognised - the washing symbols.

I handed her the note.
She studied it, a little longer than I thought necessary.
She looked up with a mixture of surprise and slight disbelief.
“Ultra-sheer!?”
“Yes.” Pause.
“But that’s a … well a … woman’s stocking!”
“If you say so.. and?”
Before she could think up a reply, I thought it was best to put her out of what looked like for her a potential embarrassing situation, and started to explain why I wanted this particular brand.
Of course I didn’t go into the girly reasons (glance, chic, sexy. [Ed: sexy?]) I just kept to the ‘hard’ facts considering the material and physical properties. I explained they were easier to put on than the others, even with the same mmHg strength and they were recommended by my gynaecologist ..
(I paused a little to see if she was paying attention before I followed with ‘friend’ – the widening of her eyes said she was)
.. and that I had the extended choice in colour.
Pause. 
“Colour?” 
“Yes, I want them in black.”
“Black!?” came the echo.
“Yes black, for business.”
I think if there had been a chair behind her she would have sat down.
“Business?” that echo again.

I was just about to say ‘Yes, business’, though better of it and told her about meetings and trousers riding up due to static sticking and that the sheer form allowed the trouser legs to slide down and sit better etc. 
If she bought all this I’m not sure, but she was getting into the swing of things and nodded now and then. With the look of relief that started to appear on her face I think she was seeing a rational behind it all and not what she first thought - whatever that was.
Well after the ‘pep’ talk, the order was made and as I was about to leave, I thought I would give her something to think about after I was gone. I remarked on the advertisement on the front of the counter (see right). I mentioned that sticking on stockings was not that ideal even with shaving and I was thinking of trying pantyhose next time and in the navy blue to go with my jeans (I didn’t mention the heels). 
Without waiting for any response I just turned and headed for the door. 
I thought I heard the scraping of a chair on the floor behind me. 
I could have been mistaken.

A week later I went back to collect them. Again another assistant behind the counter, funny that, as the place didn’t have that many staff. The black stockings worked well with my work clothes (no I don’t go to work like this, just wanted to show you the stocking tops). I have the routine of donning stockings early in the morning and removing them after getting home. I should keep them on until I go to bed, but that’s asking a little too much, I am just glad I’m compliant over the day. I should also have the stockings on at the weekends. 

At home I’m always in shorts and bare feet, summer and winter. Before the stockings became necessary no problem. Now it’s different, I still try to keep to shorts and be compliant with wearing the stockings but then I get remarks from Mrs.A. She can’t get used to seeing me ‘exposed’ in them, especially the black ones. The picture left is not a good one but one gets the idea. If I would walk around the house as in the picture above, I would get more than just a weird look.
Of course she knows why I wear them but she says they are too much like leggings and also reminds her of those of her mothers and that I look just too weird in general in them. The consequence is I only put them on in combination with trousers when we go for a walk, shopping or visiting family and friends. 

As an alternative to stockings, I started to look around for pantyhose which had at least a support function. I could not blatantly go off and buy normal hose (Abi has an extensive stash in the cellar under wraps, but that doesn't count), I just would not have an excuse for wearing them.
But if they were ‘support’ hose I had the chance she would not start asking questions. I found some 140 den 18-22 mmHg CCL1, one level below what I ‘should’ wear, almost normal compared to what I have. My rational for MrsA was having a relief from wearing my heavy duty and still having support. I could see she was a little concerned with this slacking off variation, but I held to my ‘theory’ and ordered in graphite and nude, one had more colour variations with lesser den. Also my legs didn’t look that bad in them combined with a dress and heels. 

I try as far as possible to keep the hose out of sight and only put them on when it is unlikely MrsA would enter the room and ‘catch’ me. I must say it does look and feel a little bit girly when putting them on and removing them, tug of war or not. The feeling is quite nice, its tight and supportive, the material is smooth and it keeps my tummy in as well. I also have the feeling I can walk better in them than without.
When I’m wearing them I have to tighten my trouser belt an extra 2 notches. One time I forgot to do this and on leaving the house my trousers just fell frictionless from me to the ground. As I was ‘encased’ in nylon I didn’t realise what had happened until I stepped forward tripped and nearly fell flat on my face! I’m just glad none of the neighbours as well as the wife saw me. 
I only have them ‘out in the open’ on wash day, and hang them up in the bathroom to dry where she can’t really miss them. But this seems to be ok. Well, I haven’t heard any remarks to date. As the hose is more delicate than my stockings I have to make sure I don’t ruin them. The picture on the left shows low compression hose with a pattern. I’m partial to patterns. Would love to have these, but I think I would have problems if I wore them, compression or not. 
As I mentioned the rubber gloves are quite effective. I’ve had them some time now and they are pretty weather beaten. It’s interesting that the thumbs were the first to tear and fall off. They now look similar to a pair of leather gloves I have for kite flying, they have the thumb and the index finger missing so that one can de-knot the kite’s strings with ones fingers and still have grip without burning oneself through friction. Holes are now appearing in the fingers and the material is getting thin allowing the white colour is coming through (see picture). They are still effective but I will need a new pair soon. 

I went back to the shop 6 months later for a new pair of stockings. Again I had someone else serving me (where do they come from?). I said 'Yes' to the question 'same again' but took another colour - caramel. No funny looks, just routine. Will see what happens when I go and order the blue hose the next time around, if I get served at all that is.
I haven’t added any pictures of myself till now, being shy and for other reasons, but I though a picture of the latest compression stockings with a dress and heels wouldn’t be a miss. Just a snap shot from one of the rare occasions when Abigale is allowed to show herself, well as least to the camera. 

I hope my stocking story wasn’t that trying. 

I had never thought I would have had such a journey due to a health problem, especially with what one could construe as having girly connotations. If any of you have similar experiences please let me know, I would be interested. Also any info to any outlet here in Europe to the heavy duty garter belts mentioned last time would also be appreciated. 

Well that’s over.. for now.

[Ed: yes it was a long run. Nails next I me think.]

Yes, but I hope it won't be as long as this was.

[Ed: okay, to get into the swing of things and as you’re dyslectic I though this card would be appropriate.]

I am knot going two toll a rate this! Even if ewe r write!

[Ed: only joking, shall I put the kettle on for a cuppa?]

Oh yes do! And a rich tea bicky if you please. 
I can’t do anything until my nails dry anyway.

[Ed: Right, coming up.]

Stockings IV

o I looked at 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 décor 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..]

Stockings III

o into the last ‘run’. So where to start, well let’s see...
[Ed: How about starting where you left off last time, you know just a suggestion like, nothing complicated.]
Good idea..
[Ed: Also you won’t be finished here; you have rambled on so long we will have to split again, with the rest appearing in part IV.]
Oh! Ok if you say so. Where was I, yes, last time I went back to swollen ankles after burying my first compression stockings, as they were ruined by constantly having to pull them up when they lost their grip.
[Ed: Like you]
What?
[Ed: Grip loss]
?.. No.. I buried them before I lost anything... 
.. Well about 4 months later, I was back at my phlebologist for a check-up and told my sad story of the grip-less stockings. She had sympathy with me, but no constructive advice other than a prescription for a made-to-measure stocking with build in garter belt. I must backtrack a little here to the deceased stockings. I forgot to say that they were open-toed. My phlebologist had asked me, closed or open toe, as she was rummaging around in her cupboard. I was a bit hesitant and said open. I think in my mind I reasoned that open gave more freedom for the toes and let the air circulate better - nothing more. I saw no connotations in her asking or in my choice for that matter. 
It was only when I went on the search for pictures for this post, that I came across this picture and a light went on. I searched in the net for open-toed compression stockings and found the following text on a website and the light shone brighter.
..Are you looking for top quality compression hosiery that is versatile enough to be worn with your favourite open-toed shoes? If you want to show off your newly pedicured toes in your favorite strappy shoes, our womens open toe compression stockings prove that you do not have to compromise comfort for style...

I don’t suspect my phlebologist though anything about it when I picked open, and as I didn’t at the time paint my toes (yes I do now, you will have to wait for the twilight post on nails), it never occurred to me there was a reason for open-toed compression stockings other than those I thought of when choosing.

Another thing, although I wore compression stockings on both legs only one leg was a real problem, but as I had the feeling the other was going on the blink and as there was two in the box, I thought it would be a good idea, prophylactic like, to stocking up the other as well.  I was therefore only handed a prescription for a build in garter belt stocking for the one leg. So with my prescription tucked into my handbag..
[Ed: What!]
Sorry wrong film. 
So with my prescription tucked into my ‘pocket’, I was off to the local hosiery shop for a fitting... 

I’m not sure why, but I have, since my mother started to drag me (literally) around department stores up to the time when MrsA would do the same (ok not literally, but under mind control), whenever we entered the hosiery/lingerie or cosmetics departments I went all quiet and tried inwardly to distance myself from what was going on around me, disappearing with any feeble excuse whenever I could. 
With my mother, I just went red in the face and made a right nuisance of myself until I was promised that we would visit the toy department before leaving if I kept quiet for now.
As a kid in the confinements of our home, I routinely raided my mother’s wardrobe and helped myself to her makeup (see Windows posts). However, out in the open a very different scenario. I had to make sure I didn’t give anything away. It got to the point that the only way to cope was a sensory shut down - less said and bored look the better. I don’t think I grew up and created this as a tactical manoeuvre when out with my mother, it just appeared, brought on I think by an extreme level of embarrassment that just numbed me.

In my teens, shopping solo, if I have to pass through such a dept. to get elsewhere (no, not to the toy dept., usually high-tech, music etc.), then I would look straight ahead, avoid eye contact and make a beeline for the exit, even holding my breath if I thought it would help. 

For example, passing through cosmetic departments I had a paranoia panic that if a bored cosmetician would shout out “Hey boy! you have a cute face, how about a free makeover!” I’m quite sure I would have spontaneously said “yes please!” and promptly fainted. Then on recovering, as well as leaving with a shopping bag full of free samples and smelling like a perfume factory, I would have a bill for all the products which would be arranged with perfection on and around my face.

With this vision in mind any form of detection, confrontation was absolutely undesirable.

This is only speculative but if I had been brought up as a girl, I think I would have jumped at the chance to handle the lingerie hanging around in the endless racks, with the classic question “Mum, when can I have a bra like this?”, or at the cosmetic counter “Please buy me a pink lipstick, just this once, you only have red ones, please!”. I will never know. I am now trying to 'makeup' for lost time, but of course it’s not the same. 

About 25 years ago I was friends with one of the secretaries at work (only friends), she was quite lovely and her makeup was always perfect. One day after work I invited her out for a meal, afterwards we went back to her place for a coffee (only a coffee I might add). She had a room that looked like a cosmetic studio with a reclining chair, lights, the works. We started chatting about her hobby and I remarked that this explained why she looked like she had a professional makeover before coming to work every day. She was flatted by this, with a smile she asked if I might like to see how she would do my face. I was a little taken back and I’m still not sure if she meant it in enhancing my face as a boy in some way or making me look like a girl. I’m still kicking myself to this day for not accepting and finding out what she intended to do to me. 

In the last year, when I’m out with MrsA and we end up in the cosmetics dept. I interact with her as well as I can with the knowledge I have gathered from YouTube videos and make suggestions where appropriate, but also I’m critical if I don’t like something on her. I am at the same time in my head having a running commentary with myself about what I would like to wear. I haven’t todate checked out sample lipsticks on my own hand, although when I think about it she has used my hand sometimes when she has smeared hers full. 
I think the earlier panic / embarrassment attacks where due to not really knowing I had deep down in me a girl side. Now after ‘personalising’ her with a name, I now realise how important Abigale is to me and having her react with the world. Ok, it brings a lot of frustration with not being able to dress when I want, maybe I would become more Abigale if she was let lose more often, but that’s the way it is at the moment. 
I don’t have to keep that much of a wary eye on her any more as I understand myself better. Although there has been some near misses and tight situations, like being asked in a shoe shop if I would like to try on some heels, and then having to weigh up pretty quickly what to say without giving the game away! (see ‘Heels for health’)

[Ed: I think that’s enough flashback.]

Ok. Now where was I, yes, prescription, fitting for a stocking..

.. So I entered the small hosiery shop around the corner from work, my prescription tight in my mitt and with that ‘I should be somewhere else’ feeling in my stomach. The shop had hosiery but also corsets and other foundation garments I couldn’t put a name to. There was a customer just paying, the shop assistance and the woman were chatting like friends and so I suspect they were. They didn’t notice me at first, but when they did the chatter abruptly stopped and the women went to leave. I smiled and held the door open for her, she thanked me returned the smile and added a nod. I was just about to follow her when I remembered why I was there in the first place. 
So it was about turn and with the prescription held out at arm’s length quickly advanced on the assistant to get this all over with. If I hadn’t smiled and said ‘hello’ she would probably have disappeared backwards into the dark recesses of the shop and out the back door. But she was brave and held her ground, took the prescription scrutinised it, grabbed her tape measure and beckoned me behind a curtain and asked me to drop my trousers.
As I was loosening my belt, I had the long drummed into me thought.
Did I have clean underwear on?
[Ed: and if yes, did I have underpants or panties on?]
No, I didn’t think that! You know well enough I hadn’t any at that time, today is different but then strictly drab boy underwear. 

She started to take measurements, jot them down, then back to the tape measure, it took ages. I had the feeling she had more scribbled details about my leg on her notepad than I would get with a CT or MRI scan. Then it was up to my hip and waist for the last measurements, we made out a fitting date and then I was released and free! 

The experience was uncanny in some way. It’s not as if I’m not use to having my measurements taken done there. My father carted me off to Savile Row for a fitting because of an evening at the Savoy. He wanted me, as he put it, dressed ‘proper’ at least once in my life. I had no problem when I felt a pair of hands in an unusual place and was asked ‘left’ or ‘right’ and before I understood what he was going on about, the assistant had decided for me! And you know what, he was right with left! As said no problem.

But here with the fitting, I felt slightly embarrassed. It was only a surgical garment, nothing more nothing less. But a stocking is still a stocking, compression or not, and with years of conditioning in wanting to wear stockings because it was sexy, feminine and I felt good in them and at the same time it being forbidden, a taboo and just ‘not done’, I was and still am in conflict with the situation surrounding them. 

TED: thromboembolism-deterrent

At the appointed time I went back tried it on and it fitted. There was a problem with having to first put both legs in the belt (one piece no join) then trying to get the stocking onto the leg without compromising the belt in some way, then pulling up the stocking and the belt at the same time. This was not easy and in no way elegant. The belt part sat ‘okay’ but the test would be how it went the rest of the day. 
Well sitting around was no problem, but too much walking (coffee machine and back) things started to slip. Not the belt, this was a little tight and with not being that thin in the waist area would only budge when I wanted it to. But the stocking had other plans; it started to sag down to the knee. The 15 cm wide strip of material woven in between the belt material and stocking was just too weak to counteract the stocking doing its own thing. It was stretching like a rubber band. The whole contraption was a farce. I went back and complained, was measured again and got a Mark II to try on a week later. Ok it was better, but lasted only a couple of hand washes until it died from the same weakness as Mark I.

So I was stocking-less again.
This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I started to surf for others in my situation. That is 'male', hairy legs, desperate to keep stockings up.

[Ed: it’s a wonder you didn’t put a contact add in certain magazines. With that description the replies and offers of help would have flooded in!]

Yes it would have been interesting. But I was just looking in forums to see what the census was to my problem. Between the numerous threads from males with a, shall we put it, affinity to pantyhose and Co., I eventually found a thread on compression stockings and hairy male legs. Of course I ‘knew’ deep down what I could do about the slippery stockings, but at the time I just couldn’t think about it without the “girly” aspect of it rearing up. On reading the posts I came to the conclusion that I had little choice in the matter. 
There was: 

• sticking them on, 
• the wearing of heavy duty garter belts with 4-6 straps,
• the shaving of the legs and 
• a few others that reminded me of the stapler on my office desk. 

Well if that’s going to be the content of my stocking bucket list then I should weigh them up and decide what to try first. 
I started with the ‘sticking them on’. Most of the companies that supply stockings also sold their own wash solutions and roll on water soluble glue. Gluing sounded okay, no girly inferences at all. Good! that’s it then. But I got to thinking, one of the reasons, if not the main reason, was the grip on my hairy legs, sticking would only partly work as they would be sticking to hairs as well as skin. Hairs that would slowly be pulled out by their roots. Ouch!
Ok, next on the list. The idea of garters and straps, heavy duty or not, made me come over all funny, too girly for my boy mode, wouldn’t be answerable for myself. But I still looked round in the Net to see what was available.
Daria commented in part II and send a link to Rago shapewear, I checked it out and found this (see left). There was another link in Goggle with the same article code and I ended up with this (see right). By the look of the stockings the garter belt is not in the heavy duty category, still a nice combi with the bra.
With a further search I found four companies that had garter belts that are supposed to stand up to being pulled down. One was from the NHS in the UK, it was too ugly by half and in a sort of NATO like green! Maybe it was for the National Health personnel when on military manoeuvres, no idea. 
Here are two (Jobst on the left and Therafirm right) that look like they could cope with the strain. The Jobst looks like something I could get used to as an alternative to sticking. It could be a little tight and looks like its formed for female hips. By the look of it I doubt if there is a chance of it slipping. The problem is I can’t find any store here in Europe that sells garter belts of this type, only in the States. 
One thing I’ve noticed, in all the pictures displaying garters here or in the Net they are worn over panties. It looks better that way, but is totally impractical when one has to visit the rest room. Of course I’m talking here from practical experience not just 'in theory'. 

It looks like I need a break after mentioning the rest room. 
So I’ll finish this next time, promise.
[Ed: You said that last time if I remember.]
I know, didn’t think I would need so much space.
[Ed: Too many diversions getting in the way. And what are you going to go on about next time?]
I’ll go on about, as you put it, support pantyhose, rubber gloves and the fun I had when buying my next pair of stockings. Also the next point on my check list is shaving and in this vain I'll end with this card.