It arrived!

It arrived. Wednesday’s I don’t start work until midday so we’d gone for out coffee in the sunshine. We got back about half an hour before I had to leave and there it was, patiently waiting to be rescued from the floor and released from its travelling envelope. My compression vest. We opened it up and examined it, it certainly seemed like it would be tight but in my head I wasn’t convinced it would make much difference. I wanted it to make a difference so I had to believe it wouldn’t so I could keep the potential for disappointment at bay.

It crossed my mind briefly to wait until I got back from work before trying it on but I was too excited and too nervous. It had to be done then and there. I took myself off into the bathroom and put it on (eventually working out how to get my head and both arms into it without pulling a muscle). I looked in the mirror, face on, side on, examining closely the new contours of my chest. I wore it to work and it felt really good walking along, shoulders back, head held high. I admit I was a bit nervous that someone would notice but as my lovely wife pointed out, what would they say?

Impressive is a word I would use to describe it. It flattens, not completely but enough, enough to make my shirts hang right. Enough to make catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror or shop window pleasurable. Enough that I can touch my chest and feel like it’s a chest not breasts. I’ve worn it everyday since, it’s comfortable, reassuring and secure. It’s become my shield and now there’s no way I’d want to be without it.