We’ve been inside for a while now. Having sex and getting dressed may well be activities high up on your to do list, or more realistically, not at all.
The world has reached an entirely new stage of comfortable. Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course, comfort brings with it a whole manor of goodies. Greasy hair to help with the split ends, taking a bath while your partner thinks it’s acceptable to enter unannounced and less loads for the washing machine.
On the flip side comfort has also found me laughing at the idea of shaving my legs, eating cereal from the box and going a full four days forgetting to wear a bra until I ran down the stairs to open a bottle of wine a little too energetically and was painfully reminded.
I’ve always liked the idea of nice underwear. Watching Blair Waldorf sitting in matching silks in her boudoir and the first scenes of The Devil Wears Prada spring to mind. When I was a grown up I too would wear lace numbers and stockings, parade around the house in my heels wondering what to wear because oddly, I’ve chosen my shoes first. Who does that?
Reality came crashing down the stairs with me this week when I realised I’m now that grown up and my lingerie leaves much to be desired. I don’t take note of how sexy I am whilst getting ready for work and curling my eyelashes like I thought one day I would.
Looking in my drawer I own one matching set of underwear. It’s the set I brought for our honeymoon and it hasn’t seen daylight since. Slowly and tactically my other undergarments have suffocated it and pushed it so far towards the back it’s been out of sight and mind for a good three months.
I wonder what we could learn about an individual from their underwear drawer? Delving deeper into mine (and excluding the honeymoon pin up) I learnt I have three bras. Two are a style don’t like with padding I thought I once needed and if my calculations are correct that leaves me with one bra to wear 365 days a year. The word scrappy comes to mind..
Yep that sounds about right, just one old faithful. When the wire eventually penetrates (haha) through the old fabric I’ll take it to mums and ask her to sew it, moan about the fact I have no underwear, put it back on once fixed and be on my way.
Working my way south towards my pants I remembered how quickly I pulled them of the shelf in M&S (three for ten pounds of course) with no thought to whether I actually liked them or if they would flatter me. When these were purchased I had just completed Marie Kondos Life Changing Magic of Tidying Up. I threw away all of my “P pants” that I’d collected over a life time, obviously leaving me with the single pair I was wearing and I panicked.
Over time these twelve pairs of pants (THE twelve) have started to look a bit worse for wear. Kind of the way the inside of your jeans go to remind you your thighs rub together just in case you forgot or that plain white tee that’s now greyish in colour and probably won’t survive another bolognese stain.
Small bits of elastic are flaying around carelessly and look suspiciously like something else. The fabric has come away from the seams and I’m giving the pain inflicting pair my best bitch look before throwing them in the bin.
Dan’s out of the house, I think I’ll try my very own beautiful matching underwear movie montage. Right lets try to NOT look like that lemur running naked from the shower to grab his towel meme and Que KT Tunstall.
Beautiful underwear on I made my way downstairs to make a coffee in my french presse. Lovely. Walked upstairs to apply some makeup. Went on well. Sprayed perfume for the first time since lock down started. Boujie AF.
Then something happened. Something that looked, and felt a lot sexier than me making really great coffee in beautiful underwear. I stared at myself in the mirror for a while and liked what I saw. Parts of me got appreciated. Areas that probably wouldn’t get compliments from the jury if encased in unflattering underwear I thought nothing of. I took these self portraits and liked them and found inspiration for this blog post.
I’m sure wearing beautiful lingerie won’t solve all of your problems but if it makes you look at yourself and notice how sexy you really are, it can’t be a bad thing.
You deserve to feel sexy and however that happens for you, it’s worth the effort.
Your mum was right, you really don’t know when you’ll be caught out in your undies so safer you know you look good in them..
Lots of love,
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