By Mid-November the last of the fall colors here in Calgary have been covered by the frigid snow and ice, revealing a prism of deep and rich romance. Velvety navy blues and crimson reds paint the morning skies as our breath kisses the air; the warmth is transformed into a dimension of little crystalized diamonds. It is the time of year when wearing Satin and Sequins help emulate magic as they capture the glow from the twinkling lights that dance throughout our homes and city scape during the festive winter Months.
And as Christmas winds down, the next event many of us look forward too is New Years Eve, whereby we can drape ourselves in decadent sequins and Sexy Satins. This year was unlike any New Years we have ever endured, as many slept their way into the New Year, cloaked in cotton jammies. I on the other hand was working a night shift and can only remember wearing the drool that had dried on my cheek during a lapse of mid-shift narcolepsy.
Glamorous I know.
So you can imagine I missed the pomp and circumstance that I anticipate each year when I get to have my Cinderella Moment, glass slippers and all.
I can appreciate not everyone feels comfortable wearing something that demands the attention of a room, as we all have our own version of what we feel good in. For myself I don’t believe I can wait for another year to bust out my sequins, I need glamour, and I need it now.
Many shy away from wearing sequins and should not save these little textile gems for just the holiday season or for ones children’s dance recital costumes. According to Meghan Nesmith who wrote A HISTORY OF SEQUINS, FROM KING TUT’S TOMB TO YOUR NEW YEAR’S EVE OUTFIT, Sequins have been around since since Ancient Egypt. They have been unearthed in archeological sites from Pakistan to Egypt. The earliest versions were gold nuggets, hammered into thin circles and pierced through the center. Heaps of them were found scattered across Tutankhamun’s tomb, some deeply colored by iron deposits in shades of red and purple, or sewn in shapes of flowers along his ceremonial robe, both to indicate his importance and keep the king tricked out in the afterlife.
Like the sun god himself, King Tut literally beamed. He was the drag queen of his time in my opinion!
I figured there is no time like the now to still adorn yourself like Cleopatra, and unleash your inner queen. Here are some of my fave’s I came across:
So Lets not delay my friends, the Satin and Sequins are feeling neglected these days. Whether its a trip to the fridge, or your home office is tired of seeing you in the same dirty sweats- there is no wrong time to be glamorous!
My bedroom has always been my safe haven, my Cubbie Hole of Bliss you could say. And not just because for the obvious reasons *wink *wink, but there is something to be said about the calming effect it has on my spirit when I just need a break. Over the years I’ve mastered the art of soft lighting and luxurious textiles that caress my weathered skin, hungry for some solitude and kindness. Now that the snow has fallen my desire to batten down the hatches has grown even more so, drawing my blinds closed until the Spring.
As I mentioned before, by no means do I associate time to my bedroom as a place where I skulk and withdraw from Joy. In fact its where I come to recharge, free myself from the distractions and negativity in a space I can control. Every now and again I use it specifically for a day when I need to filter out the world a bit and get some reprieve from the ugly; Calgary weather included. When I’m in my fortress of solitude I don’t just lay in my bed with my covers pulled over my head like you may have imagined. In fact it may be some of the most productive time that I spend with myself. Some may wonder how is it possible to stay so busy and entertained within such a small space let alone by oneself. Well let me put you on to some simple ideas that you may want to consider next time you want a break from the world.
This idea came to me almost 10 years ago and has stuck ever since. It was rooted in nostalgia originally from my days in high school and university where we’d rotate stacks of fashion magazines. It seems like when social media took over and magazines/gossip could be accessed more readily online that the fascination with print died. In a genius move, I brought it back for days like this. I’d buy the Cosmopolitan, People, Vogue, and Rolling Stone to name a few. I’d read them from back to front like I had 20 years ago because we all know the juicy stuff was in the back. I love coming across the perfume tester pages so that I could rub its papery fragrance all over me like I was headed to a 7th grade dance hoping to score my first French kiss. But what is a stack of magazines without a bag of Twizzlers- its not so grab two!
Run yourself a professional bath- my bathroom is open concept so technically its still in my room. The decorative candles bordering your soaker tub that may have a layer of dust on them-Light those Puppies! For gods sake candles are meant to burn, and they aren’t an ambient accent unless they are lit sis. Next, throw on some kick ass jazz or whatever tunes get you singing along sorrowfully. For me its Nina Simone, Lana Del Ray, Tash Sultana, or my ultimate fave; 80’s Hair Band Ballads. Those you can really murder the best with your angelic voice as loudly as unnecessarily possible. I love a good ol’ sing along to some Guns and Roses Don’t Cry. I imagine you’ll remember lyrics that you hadn’t sang since you were backcombing your bangs and getting spiral perms. When your done, make sure you moisturize the hell out of your body with every miracle cream that’s under your sink and lay there butt ass naked until every fragrant globule of magical serum is absorbed. You may look like a buttered biscuit, but guess what, buttered biscuits are delicious.
Make yourself a snack platter you can graze on all day. It needs to be complete with all the cheeses, meats, dips, olives, bits and bites. Include some fruits to cut the salt intake, it will make you feel like you are indulging in a healthy way. Hell, even make yourself a jug of spa water and finish that up to ensure you are adequately hydrated as the goal here is to rejuvenate and recharge.
Do something creative whether its writing a blog, sketching, brainstorming interior design ideas, or coming up with small business ideas. These often can manifest themselves into bigger goals in the future that could materialize into new passions. Perhaps write a poem, or get out an old cute note book and jot down some free thought words. Let your mind go a bit and do something maybe out of the ordinary. Maybe you like nail art, try doing something different with your nails by watching a you tube tutorial on it. Or learn a new braid and practice it in the mirror. These are all little things that we often too busy for in our lives to consider as being alternatively mindless but pleasant ways to spend time with yourself.
Play dress up. Get into that closet of yours and drag out the items you don’t wear often. Try to put new outfits together with these items that you can get excited about when you emerge from your Cubbie of Bliss. In fact while your in there, organize a weeks worth of outfits ahead of time. If your up for it you can take it up a notch and do a full runway show, documenting how freaking amazing your style is and celebrating your ability to repurpose that sequined blazer you wore once at a new years party 5 years ago. Sequins never die queens.
Put on an old 80’s movie and fall asleep to it. Go sweetly into a wonderland of REM sleep that’s influenced by the movies white noise guiding your Adventures in Babysitting, or perhaps a day off with Bueller. For some reason I feel like these naps are best had in jeans…odd suggestion I know, but how often do we get to sleep in our day clothes? I find denim warm and all encompassing, holding me together like a hug I consented too. There is an underlying feeling of unfamiliarity napping in the daytime with my clothes on…it’s laziness coming to fruition, not something I personally can always enjoy without guilt. But in the Cubbie of Bliss, there are no rules and there is no guilt because here you can spend the day however you wish.
So as you can see I have some unique ideas tailored to my own personal comforts and quirks. They are merely a guide to ignite your own exploration around finding ways to be with yourself if you struggle to sit in isolation but feel weary from the world around you. In fact I came across an article in Forbes stating that there are 7 Science Based Reasons Why Should Spend More Time Alone.
When you spend time with a certain circle of friends or your co-workers, you develop a “we vs. them” mentality. Spending time alone helps you develop more compassion for people who may not fit into your ‘inner circle.’
2. Solitude increases productivity.
Although so many offices have started creating open floor plans so everyone can communicate more easily, studies show being surrounded by people kills productivity. People perform better when they have a little privacy.
3. Solitude sparks creativity.
There’s a reason a lot of authors or artists want to go to a cabin in the woods or a private studio to work. Being alone with your thoughts gives your brain a chance to wander, which can help you become more creative.
4. Being alone can help you build mental strength.
We’re social creatures and it’s important for us to have strong connections with other people. But, solitude may be just as important. Studies show the ability to tolerate alone time has been linked to increased happiness, better life satisfaction, and improved stress management. People who enjoy alone time experience less depression.
5. Solitude may reduce behavior problems in kids.
When you carve some solitude in your schedule you show your children that being along is a healthy thing to do. And research shows kids who learn to by themselves are better behaved than other children. Be a good role model and teach solitary skills early.
6. Being alone gives you an opportunity to plan your life.
Being alone helps you become more comfortable in your own skin. When you’re by yourself, you can make choices without outside influences. And that will help you develop more insight into who you are as a person.
Thank you for continuing to read, follow and comment on my unique brand of crazy tales and thoughts! Lett me know in the comment section what you love to do in solitude!
I would have been around 7 or 8 years old when I recognized my body was built differently than the other girls my age. I had been in competitive figure skating from an early age, spending most of my mornings before school and after at the rink going between one lesson to another. I remember my favorite thing to do was go to the concession stand if my mom had given me some money and share an order of onion rings with my tiny friends. One of the sneaky things I used to do was comb the bottom of my fathers closet where change would fall from his pant pockets onto the floor. This would fund my concession trips on many occasions against my mother’s knowledge who was trying to mold her little Olympic Dream on skates. And as a result, treats were few and far between however and was always reminded that Onion Rings were not a “healthy option.” I didn’t understand why not, therefore given my personality felt more inclined to indulge in the forbidden every chance I could get.
To put it into context further, I was the kid who had the homemade fruit leather and vegetable filled pitas in my lunch, which as an adult I would not complain about this at all. Especially considering my breakfast, lunches and sometimes dinner looks more like a reheated Triple Skinny Latte most of the time. But for myself all I wanted was the fruit roll ups I could stick on my finger like the rest of the kids and chew on its artificially sweetened chemically saturated nectar. Hot Dog days at school were especially difficult- I’d salivate over the Orange Drink and smells of boiled mystery meat and mustard. Walking home from school I was advised to not go to the corner store with friends, but my dads closet floor would always pull through and I’d have enough to buy a bag of O’Ryans Sour Cream and Onion chips, with its savory thick powder coating. The walk home would allow me enough time to eat it, and dispose of the evidence just in time.
By no means do I intend on framing my mother as restrictive or intentionally harmful with regards to the relationship I have with food. You see she knew all too well what I’d face growing up with regards to my weight and sense of self image because she too struggled. She grew up in a time when body positivity was not a “thing” and if you were overweight you would shield your imperfections from the world as to not offend anyone. She would sometimes tell me my clothes were too tight, as a way f trying to protect me from potential mean comments or stares she had endured. I remember her telling me that she would wear big earrings to draw attention to her face and away from her body. I too often use this jokingly when I simply need an excuse to wear big gaudy earrings that only I could appreciate. My mom knew the world could be cruel to me and did not want to see me endure the same kind of judgement she had been through.
So when I could be seen in comparison to the other tiny ice nymphs it was clear I was going to be a bull within the china shop. At that time my favorite Figure Skater at that time was Serina Bonnelly, a muscular powerhouse of fierce athleticism. I wanted to be her. In fact I’d attack my jumps and spins with the same kind of ferocity I imagined she did. Fearlessly I’d approach my set ups with a crazed adrenaline determined that could out-do any element of grace required to stick a landing. I wanted to go into them fast and hard, like a kamikaze pilot raging into battle. As a result I’d often fall just as hard, getting up each time to try it 30-40 more times. I wasn’t concerned though about the falls because I loved the feeling of taking flight with the robust capabilities that my body gifted me with.
As my skating career continued I had begun Precision Skating with a group of 20 other girls, which is now known s synchronized skating now. I remember being fitted for my costume, it was an Annie themed routine, and I wore an electric red body suit with a little white collar. There I was with my oddly shaped 7 year old body, you know the one, round bellied sprinkled with hints of puberty. My legs were strong and I was a powerful skater with a tooshie to match. I loved Precision skating as it was so unique to work with a team as opposed to being alone on the ice. We had gone to a competition with our Annie program and we had taken team photos after winning first place in our category beaming with delight. I’d get the long awaited photo and pull it from its envelope and look for myself in the photo, and it didn’t take long as I stood out appearing like a brown haired chubby cherub in a red body suit. I no longer wanted to be Serina Bonnelly, I wanted to be skinny and tiny like the rest of the girls.
My heart breaks for my 7 year old self with that statement.
Similar situations like the Precision Team picture would occur into my adolescence. I continued to be powerful, strong and heavy into sports like Rowing and Field Hockey which I would excel in. Lazy I was not and loved competing and enjoying the thrills of being an athlete. But sure enough, with every team I was on, there I would be, standing out in photos, with my bottom heavy thick legs and thighs among the petit bodies that I wanted so much to be like. I remember hitting grade 11 and had decided I’d drop some weight going from 136 lbs. to 120 lbs. Weekends we would order pizza to our dorm and I’d savor my allowed portion by eating the slice in layers, starting with the cheese, then the soft dough, moving down to the bare bones of the crust.
I actually still eat pizza this way now, except I eat 4 pieces with ranch and hot sauce.
During that time in high school I had heavy training related to my sports teams, but additionally I’d spend my nights in the weight room working out on my own when everyone else was hanging out. I thought maybe if I could get “skinny” things would get better for me. Maybe I’d be more desired by the popular boys, maybe the cool girls would want to closer to me as a friend, maybe teachers would pay attention to me or even maybe I’d be noticed more for my accomplishments like the skinny girls were. What I wanted was to be seen and appreciated. It seemed like this happened so effortlessly for the skinny girls. This was the message the world was giving me at this time. It was reinforced by the early warnings of my mother who had shared similar experiences of being treated differently feeling that society did not value fat people. In my experience the ridicule came in the form of feeling often invisible in the crowd and achievements unacknowledged despite my efforts, dedication and performance.
“If we make self-love or body acceptance conditional, the truth is, we will never be happy with ourselves. The reality is that our bodies are constantly changing, and they will never remain exactly the same. If we base our self-worth on something as ever-changing as our bodies, we will forever be on the emotional roller coaster of body obsession and shame.”
— Chrissy King
By graduation, I was tiny, and I looked phenomenal catching the eye of those who underestimated this newly blonde and bodacious bombshell. I worked that form fitting Latin inspired dress like a rockstar…it was my night to shine and it felt so good to be looked at for once. I remember my father continued to comment on how amazing I looked and how everybody was staring at his gorgeous daughter.
I felt seen finally!
It was like a drug for a girl that felt so invisible.
After high school I’d venture into a world that was far more forgiving, team photos a distant past and tucked away in a box. My inner desire to feel the urge to compare and regulate my body weight would be fleeting depending on where I was at emotionally. Having my daughter would push me over the 200 lb. mark and keep me there 20 years later. I’ve fluctuated since then losing 10, gaining 20, losing 30, gaining 10. The game continues today. I’ve done weight watchers, Keto, G.I. diet, HCG, and gone vegetarian all with great results. I remember in June this year I’d lose 25 lbs on a quick and restrictive calorie deficit diet, feeling like I had hit the jackpot finally on my quest to feel good in the body I was given. I had been anticipating a night out with friends and planned an outfit that would show off my newly smaller frame. I’d put this outfit on and immediately hated how my body looked in it. Parts of my figure that I loved before no longer were accentuated in ways that made me unique from the pack. I looked like a deflated and more invisible version of myself than ever before. This was not the kind of reinforcement I had hoped for in the quest to continue my journey to be more visible and accepted in the world. And wouldn’t you know, within months I’d go back to the fluffier and more filled out version of myself.
I cannot win, but I’m okay with it.
Let me just say this, the happiest I’ve been with regards to my how I feel about my body is when I can work out 5 days a week and eat what I want. During my most gym dedicated times as my commitment often varies, did I ever lose any significant weight, but my body would change as did my confidence. Do I get “Skinny” by doing this, absolutely not as you can see. What does change though is my confidence and acceptance of how my body looks and more importantly what I can do with it. I continue to try and free myself from the chains of a scale and the displayed numbers that are not necessarily a determinant with regards to measuring the contentment within myself. In addition I’m so pleased to see how society and women especially have embraced the body positive movement, and that plus size models are no longer seen as the other or niche market. On social media you can see women of all shapes and sizes celebrated for their beauty and unique figures, all sporting a sense of renewed confidence that is refreshing for a woman like me who has been welcoming this moment since she was 7 years old.
I recognize that body augmentation remains to be highly sought after with women desiring to attain fuller curves and minimized waists. It mimics the same patterns I felt in my early years looking to be noticed in the hopes to have access to the same recognition and opportunities that appeared to come so easily to the skinnies. And do not get me wrong, I am not against any form of augmentation that a woman desires to get, as long as she feels good about herself and does not risk her health in doing so. What I do caution though within my experience of sharing that sense of wanting to belong and be seen is to not expect that in doing so doors will open or life will get easier. Life remains the same and is contingent on the ambition and confidence you have within- You Cannot Fake It. If cosmetic and plastic surgery opens the door for confidence to root its seeds deep within you then its a win in my eyes. To each their own whichever road you choose.
And to be fully transparent I would love to get a few things nipped, tucked and sucked! I’m 42 and I have at least another 5-6 years of pool parties in me- I wanna go out with a Bang before Menopause hits and I have hair growing out of my chest and bouts of lunacy. If I wasn’t so darn practical and lets admit…peasant poor… I’m sure I would have already dove head first into it. In addition I feel like I have some heavy work to do before taking the easy the way out. I’ve been saying to myself, first get healthy and super fit, see where you land in terms of results then go from there. Lets see if this materializes, don’t hold your breath y’all!
Each individual woman’s body demands to be accepted on its own terms.
I believe I’m not the only one in this revolving door of wavering confidence mixed with good intentions and intermittent self discipline as it pertains to managing weight. And I don’t believe us full figured women are the only ones that can get consumed with the numbers on the scale. I’ve often heard my slender beauty’s say that there is an element of competition and scale number comparison’s among themselves. They’ve told me other women will ask them how much they weigh and from there put themselves into a frenzy to keep up and out-do that number. I was extremely uncomfortable learning that those kind of conversations even exist. I assure you in the fluffy girl world we do not discuss numbers let alone divulge them in conversation! That’s a no go zone!
But it does not surprise me either.
Shamelessly I admit I’ve been binge watching the Kardashians and on countless occasions the opening scenes start with “Oh my god your so skinny.” Whether its that Jonathon Chaban “Food God” or one the sisters, I cannot believe that is an acceptable way to either greet someone or say hello. What baffles me even more is how this guy eats the way he does and stays looking like Skeletor, I swear the man two finger diets his way through life. Its cringe worthy every time I hear them say it on the show, I just want to jump into the TV and give their necks a choke. I miss fluffy Khloe by the way!
This way of being extends itself to the world outside of the Kardashians whereby other women will refer to other women as “those skinny bitches.” I’m sure you have either been guilty of it or heard it from someone. I challenge you to think about how you felt in that moment and ask yourself what did I mean when I said that to someone?
Did I mean I think they are beautiful?
Did I mean I think they look like they have been working really hard at getting healthy and toning up?
Why did I not just say something more specific with regards to what I admire about them?
I think often our own insecurities become disguised in our admiration of others and can be damaging to them. It’s essentially role reversal body shaming and its not a good look either. Again I think it boils down to the perceived idea that being thin carries the illusion that life must be easier as a result of the smaller number on the scale. Thin, thick, in the middle, we all have the same struggles, that being the journey to love thy damn self and the vessel that god gave you. It has taken me a long time to come full circle with regards to not allowing my value and self worth to be dictated by the failures of the sliding numbers on the scale. As long as body positivity continues to trend and we begin to see a larger array of women being celebrated in various media platforms I think we can begin to close the divide of misconceptions. Taking the initial steps to be kind within ourselves will open the doors to consider being kind to others, being authentic in our admirations of others, and opening the door for dialogue, understanding and acceptance.
“So the question is, which boulder are you going to choose to roll? The ‘must lose weight’ boulder or the ‘fuck you I will boldly, defiantly accept the body I’ve got and LIVE IN IT’ boulder?”
Now that every male has decided to exit with his box to the left, lets discuss the fabrics that shelter our own little boxes. This applies to the ladies who claim they don’t wear underwear too, because every now and again, your delicate kittens need an affectionate embrace too.
It was 1993 and I would have been in grade 8 when I received my first pair of thong underwear from my Auntie Pauline. My Aunt lived in California and was always sporting the hottest outfits, dawning her dark bronzed skin while sprawled out on her patio that overlooked the golf course. She had this adorable little haircut that was perfectly understated for her feisty, yet petit little frame. My mom said growing up the neighborhood kids would call her “souris en colere,” and found it funny that she wound up as a “trophy wife” to my uncle who had climbed the corporate ladder of Southern Edison. I loved her fashion sense despite her admittedly passing it off as- more work- than something she actually took a real interest in. She was a tomboy at heart, but you couldn’t deny not taking notice of her effortless sensuality. I have fond memories from my visits with her as she’d dump loads of nail polish and other beauty products into my suitcase to take home. We’d play in her luxurious bathroom and closets, where she’d give you the diamonds off her ears if you asked her for them.
So it was no surprise when we went shopping at The Esplanade that she told me I needed Thong underwear so that my panty lines wouldn’t show. I thought to myself, who cares about pantie lines, those things looked gross. I didn’t understand how anything that would go up your butt could be comfortable, until she bought my first pair. When I slid my thong on for the first time an overwhelming sense of sophistication flooded my system. It was like I was wearing nothing at all, and I’d think to myself, what if all the boys knew I was wearing a thong, they’d think I was soooo sexually cultivated. Who knew only 6 years later wearing your thong over the top of your jeans would become all the rage. The thong song would hit the airwaves and Sisco would be singing that famous tune “That thong thong thong thong thong.” I clearly was a young woman ahead of the times.
Over the years the thong would take on many additional sub forms as their popularity grew at the same rate as my backside did. And so came the evolution of the thong world. There was the G-string: Designed for minimal play, a typical G-string thong has an elastic string that bridges the front part of underwear to the waistband at rear. In a nutshell, it’s a triangular piece of cloth with string. I’d wear this for the majority of my 20’s. There is the C-STRING Thong: They make a huge ‘C’, thereby justifying the name. These thongs have stupefied the entire lingerie world by their innovative new concept! They cover only the intimate areas and do not include support waist-strings. However, they include a flexible internal frame that ensures that the apparel stays intact. Then lastly the Cheeky Thong, which seems funny because it feels like all my ill fitting underwear turn into these within the first hour. But If you want maximum thong coverage, then the ‘cheeky’ thong is for you. They cover a good part of the rear while still providing decent exposure to buttocks.
As the years progressed underwear got complicated. You no longer had to go to specialty lingerie stores to access all the fancy underwear as stores like La Senza and La Vie En Rose were introduced to Canada. Before that, Hanes offered a wide variety of the most unflattering underwear around that we would later call “Period Panties.” The kind that you could buy in bulk and didn’t care if Aunt Flo spilled her red wine all over. These were the gems you wouldn’t miss if you had to toss them in the Food Court Washroom Garbage as they had sopped up and prevented a total nightmare from being exposed.
Over the years, I’d consider every pair of panty that wasn’t a thong – Period Panties. The category grew to embrace new cuts like the Hipster, the Tanga, High/French Cut brief, Low Cut Bikini, and the Boy Short, which would allow Aunt Flo to hit you at any time when you were least expecting it. College was always fun when I’d pair my matching Cotton Striped Bra with some sporty Tanga’s, hit the Campus Bar, feeling cute in an Abercrombie Fitch kind of way. I’d be grinding it out on the dancefloor to Genuine’s “Pony” and feel the gush of hot Co-Ed hormonal moisture between my legs. After about 20 Broken Down Golf Cart Shots I’d say to myself “This boy was going to get the ride of his life.” So like every college girl in he early 2000’s, I’d need to go Calgon Spritz my entire body and undercarriage before we left to his smelly dormroom. First rule was that vagina should only smell of cotton candy or vanilla cupcakes, there was no connection to that and the chronic Yeast infections that would follow. I’d pinball through the crowd, drunkenly bouncing off people and throwing out the obligatory Canadian “Sorry” all the way. To my horror, it was not hormonal moisture, it was Aunt Flo, cockblocking again, subsequently losing another pair of panties to a public washroom garbage.
As the years have gone by, I not only have mastered how to track my cycle better, but I’ve mastered the art of underwear functionality. You see, underwear styles and designs are based on function for different types of clothing, so the right (or wrong one) can make or break an outfit. There’s a reason why the saying “Don’t get your panties in a bunch!” exists; ill-fitting underwear can seriously kill your mood. In my eyes the only thing worse than ill fitting panties is an ill fitting outfit that flaunts the bloat or the week long bender of Fast Food you ate.
Brace yourself for the Control Brief. Control briefs are like regular briefs, but with the added function of shapewear. This women’s underwear style creates a smooth silhouette around your abdomen. They sit high on the waist, just under the belly button with some styles going as high as under the breasts. I’d say that the control Brief has got to be panty in my drawer that is the heaviest on rotation. Spanx and Shapewear can be hot, and somewhat annoying to deal with not only ergonomically but not ideal in times of seduction. You can’t tell me that at one point in your life you didn’t do the shapewear peel off in a nightclub bathroom stall prior to exiting the club with your one night stand. I think I’ve gone as far as peeling it off in the passenger seat while whatever his name was ran into a 7-11 to get Condoms. I threw my Spanx right out that window- he was not going to catch me in all my shapewear deceit!
Now for every other day I love a good ol’ pair of seamless underwear. They are my workout undies and everything in between. Seamless underwear provide smoother-than-smooth coverage under Yoga Pants, joggers, or whatever pants you have on. They breathe well and sit nicely where you have left them last. My boyfriend once asked me why I bothered wearing underwear underneath my yoga pants when I work out. I am aware that I can go through underwear wardrobe changes upwards to to three times a day, but I do the laundry so why is he so pressed? I told him that Vagina’s need extra protection from the nasty man sweat left behind on the benches because who knows what’s lurking on them! In actuality, I double up because there is nothing more embarrassing than leaving a Big Ol’ Sweaty Twat Imprint for the next person to see. Underwear with good ventilation is key.
If you are as emotionally unregulated as me, your underwear drawer should be just as unpredictable. That being said mine is filled with hundreds of pretty lace panties, barely there, satin-bowed and crotchless that I swore I’d wear more. Or Maybe you are one of these people, and you rock them daily just not givin a F***, because you are either a size 2 or 15 years old. Life is so much easier for you folks isn’t it?
I can’t be alone in this conclusion guys? I’m 42 and if you are near my age you most definitely can relate to picking comfort over discomfort any day. Consequently, our confidence and wisdom has taught us that panties are not the gateways for seduction but merely a meaningless barrier when the time comes. Not to pour more salt on my 40 something year old wounds but my sex-capades allow for enough advance planning for some visual delight. Rest assure, I’m not throwing anymore Spanx away for no man, they are far to valuable and expensive to replace! With that being said, I do wonder sometimes who found my Spanx and what they said to themselves when they had to dispose of them. I can envision them looking at the the flesh colored pile that perhaps resembled a wrinkled up hairless cat lying naked and afraid on the pavement. Bending over they’d pick it up between their fingers or maybe used a stick to inspect it, wincing as they brought it closer to view.
I guess we’ll never know.
I hope you enjoyed stopping by and taking time to read my ridiculous stream of memories and thoughts! Please keep sharing, liking and commenting as I love hearing from the world around me and what your experiences are on the topics.