I didn't feel so good.
My arms were aching because of the constant struggle to take off my dress. The hook at the back wouldn't budge a single inch no matter how hard I tried. If that wasn't enough, I had somehow managed to get my braid stuck in them and I couldn't even move my head. Everything hurt like hell. To think that women in the Victorian and medieval eras used to do this all the time.
"F-Fleur!" I called, helpless. I was so done with the dresses here. Everyday, Martha helped dress me up, knowing that I can't do it myself. And she's damn right! I can't. Each dress consists of a lot of layers. In the right order, we've got an undershirt, some white knickers, a corset which usually takes the life out of me, a busk, a corset cover, a petticoat, a bustle, another petticoat (this time with excessive ruffles), a blouse, something called a garniture a.k.a elaborately decorated skirt, and to top it all of...some heavy accessories.
