Lingering on lingerie

This one is for the lay-dees….

I dress like a 17 year old boy most days. Working from home gives me license to spend my days in jeans, t shirts (give or take the thermal undershirt), and Vans. I may be 40ish, but I regularly braid my hair and abstain from make up, wear clogs and leave my retainers in. I am quite happy to bounce through the day looking like I was drop kicked through Gap, largely because of what you can’t see.

Hello, My name is Rachael and I’m a lingerie whore.

I might not be drawn to a new lipstick or jewelry, and I only wear heels when I know I’m going to be around tall people, but put me in front of a wall of bras and panties, thongs and garter belts at Nordstrom or Saks and I’m breathless.  Men have porn, girls have crushes, I have lingerie.  After 20 years denying my femininity, I can finally admit that I am unequivocally obsessed with girlie frilly underwear.

It stems from being an ..ahem.. early developer. While I hated the idea that I was now, literally, strapped down, I did find the lacey little nothing I was strapped into, kind of.. interesting. As I grew, so did my collection. I defended my purchases on a practical basis. I was somewhat ‘over blessed’ in the chestical department, so really, I needed lots of lingerie. One could just break at any time, so of course I needed backups. 41 of them. With matching panties.

It started with virgin white cotton lace, then expanded to every type of white anything. I refused to wear any color other than white (not for any moral stance on my virginity, but simply because it made my milk bottle blue skin look vaguely tan by comparison).  As I left college and entered the world of work I realized the appeal of the ‘set’, of color and range. That one day I was polka dotted swiss cotton and the next I was black satin. I’ve spent many years forging a collection to rival any department store and it continues to grow, even as I head on into my 40s…the land of the practical cotton pant and Spanx slimmer.

(To those who might be rolling their eyes at this point.. I challenge you to visit your nearest department story (no, Target will not do), buy yourself a matching set of anything pretty and girlie.. regardless of your size or your taste.. put them on and tell me you don’t feel great.)

To my coworkers and friends I may be a boring dresser who favors blue and black conservative attire, lacks accessories and could use some heels, but I know underneath, my ‘clothes’ are flawless. Who could argue with a matching set of La Perla? A new creamy camisole? Silky boy shorts or a scanty string thong? I have drawers full. I draw the line at the tacky pornie stuff..I’m not buying it for guys. After all, I’ve been single for most of my life. But frills and lace – I can’t get enough.
While I wouldn’t dream of wearing a low cut or transparent top, my underwear is some people’s idea of obscene. Little more than 2 pieces of string and some lace. And I’m not embarrassed or ashamed because nobody sees it but me. It is all for me. My little pieces of confidence.  My secret security blanket.

You see, I’m an anxious person and I’ve spent much of my life worrying about what others think. Whether I made the right decision or said the wrong thing. I’ve laid in bed at 3am worrying about things I did 12 years ago and whether I really hurt someone when I sent that email, wore the same dress or showed up 5 minutes late.
But I never have to worry about my underwear.
That, I know, is perfect.

So when I get hit by that bus and the EMTs are hauling me off to the ER, my mother can be proud. My underwear is clean, pretty and it matches.

So at least I’ve got that nailed. 

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