Every morning after waking to the sun shining and gleaming along the Thassa, I rise and ready Myself for the day. Like many Free Woman within the City, the task of dressing is one of great time and somewhat slight torture.

Though knowing the necessity of the robes and veils, I set to, mumbling and grumbling of the layers and layers of clothing that I am adorned in. After what seems like the thousandth little eyehook, I scan over to make sure all is in place.

My veils pinned and covering My face so that only My eyes are showing. Surprised that I hadn't poked Myself in the head with My poison pins some mornings. The layers of robes smooth and modest upon My tiny frame.

Recalling many strolls through the Markets of Port Kar within the heavy robes, thinking to Myself at any moment I could drop from the weight. Somewhat like a pack animal about to drop from the weight of the load carried upon it's back.

So, why do I go through the almost masochistic rituals each morning to dress with such extravagance and completeness?

First, it is the rule of My City, though it is not mandatory in all Cities and Camps. Some Camps require that FW wear leathers just as a FM does.

Okay!! Okay!! I also do it for vanity reasons. I like being all dressed up. I somewhat feel safer from being kidnapped as well. A raider is not going to kidnap what He cannot see! For all He knows, underneath the veils, I could have the face of a bosk -- though there are some raiders who search out FW.

"There is a Gorean saying that free women, raised gently in the high cylinders, in their robes of concealment, unarmed, untrained in weapons, may, by the slaver, be plucked like flowers." (Hunters of Gor, p.118)

So every morning like clockwork, this Free Woman awakens and sets to dressing. Robe after robe, veil after veil.