My Corset Needs Loosening, Too
If we were in the Victorian age, I would suffer from a nervous temperament.
I say that because I have a slight hormonal imbalance, hypoglycemia that sometimes manifests as panic attacks, and jacked-up PMS here in the 21st century.
The good thing about the 21st century is that pills and diagnoses abound.
The good thing about the Victorian age is that, if a woman was of nervous temperament, she could get away with lying on her ass all day.
Right now I could totally get down with lying on a fainting couch in a rustly silk outfit and maybe even a starched morning cap. Right now it would be awesome for a maid to bring me some lavender water and cold compresses (hold the opium and leeches, though). Today’s the kind of day where I would have to turn all callers away, except maybe the young gentleman callers that my old rich husband doesn’t seem to mind. They could come over and read to me or profess their chaste admiration. That would be okay.
I only think about these things when I’m feeling cruddy. They won’t let me lie down here at work.
