A woman sitting on a desk in a room with a window

“You are making a tremendous mistake,” I said, and tried to kick off the shoes, but they wouldn’t budge--it was like some force had bonded them onto my feet. I reached behind my back to find the corset-laces--the tightening had finally stopped as I floated back to the floor--but the breezes tugged at my arms, finally forcing them above my head. This was to make room for the cage-crinoline that dropped onto me, and the layers of white satin petticoats that followed it. The silver shoes disappeared under the satin and lace and flounces, and I found myself surrounded by skirts so wide I thought I could rest my elbows on them--once I could lower my arms again. In another moment I was proven correct; the layers of petticoats were surmounted by another framework of whalebone which stretched horizontally from my now-miniscule waist, and I found I could lower my arms--and indeed, rest them on the skirt. It was no use trying to take the clothing off now--even if I could move my arms on my own, I couldn’t begin to find my way out of the layers of complicated undergarments I wore.