|….at least don’t laugh harder than me!The lingerie I ordered online arrived in the mail just in time to mock my single status. If you could anthropomorphize a chemise or pee-a-boo babydoll, they would be sticking their tongues out at me, crossing their eyes, and yelling “neener neener neener!”
Here’s a snapshot of the lingerie (and red glitter heels which match my Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz outfit):
And this is what made me laugh so hard I almost cried. My uber-gorgeous lingerie with matching microscopic thongs (WTF!!!) didn’t come in wrapping paper. Or tissue. Or little silk bags like I get at the lingerie shop downtown.
No…. my lingerie came in BOXES! At first, I wondered why the hell they were sending me pornos!!!
So, FYI….Trashy.com for lingerie. You can find it all.
I have a huge lingerie collection – upwards of 7 drawers full of bras, garter belts, panties, bustiers, corsets, stockings, bodysuits, and chemises. And that’s not including the costumes…
It’s impressive, even by Victoria’s Secret standards.
Periodically, I run out of space in my bureaus and I have to pare down some of my collection.
The black panty with the red lace heart window and garters always stays.
As a woman, I have tiers of lingerie – levels of cotton, lace, and satin which increase in sexiness as you go up. It’s a so-called pyramid of lingerie.
At the bottom of the pyramid is the period underwear. These pairs are so bad that no one is allowed to see us in them. They can sometimes be stained, occasionally stretched out, and definitely not anything you want to be caught dead in. You wear these when you’re feeling gross and bloated.
The next level is the comfortable lingerie – these are your plain cotton panties, your Fruit-of-the-Looms, your gym underwear. They’re your business underwear – all work, no play. When you want to be comfortable you wear these. Not necessarily meant to be seen in, but it’s not the end of the world if you are. You’re not dressing to impress.
Up one tier we encounter the Fredericks of Hollywood and Victoria’s Secret lingerie. This is your standard sexy lingerie which looks good on you but still eventually fades and semi falls apart because it was made in China. Still, you remember when it was sexy so you keep wearing it.
Finally, you have your top tier lingerie – La Perla, Elle MacPherson, Agent Provocateur, Eberjey. and Faire Frou Frou. These are your drop-the-jaw, shut-the-door, mama-and-daddy-are-getting-it-on lingerie. They are the pieces that when we put then on we feel instantly sexy (and they hold up over the years because they were mad in Italy and France).
They are the pieces that when we put them on we feel instantly sexy. Like a Pussycat Doll on a mission. Not all of these pieces have to be expensive. I have a hot pink slip from Target which makes me feel like Marilyn Monroe.
If you catch my in my top tier undies, chances are you’re getting lucky.
Just writing this makes want to go inventory my lingerie drawers and post pics of me and my favorites.
But since I’m away from home, I’ll have to be satisfied posting my boudoir photos again.
P.S. I have a small but impressive collection of vinyl that makes me understand the meaning of the word fetish on a cellular level…
Every Monday, Tejas cooks me dinner.
But last Monday, I cooked him dinner because he donated his fish and crab from our fishing trip to me.
I made the tastiest, flakiest, fresh, crumb-coated cod filets you can imagine which I served with mashed potatoes, gravy, and green beans dressed in a lemon and mustard sauce.
It was delish!
While Tejas was there, I took the opportunity to show him some of the stuff I’ve acquired for my trip to Sweden – specifically my boots.
He encouraged (forced) me to try them on to make sure they fit okay.
And they did.
Then he proceeded to give me unsolicited advice.
Something along the lines of: SLEEP NAKED WITH THE SWEDE.
At least that was his suggestion when I told him I was planning to get a nice, comfy yet sexy nightgown to sleep in.
There’s another person in the house.
I always wonder what I will do if someone walks in OR if I have to evacuate the house because of a fire or carbon monoxide, etc.
Sleeping naked is not my forte.
If you’re worried about easy access, a nightgown usually hitches up around the waist providing absolutely NO PROTECTION against the onslaught of man.
But then, I came across THIS PAIR OF PAJAMAS on CafePress and I said:
I had to have them.
Sweden AND hockey?
It’s The Swede’s dream.
So folks, I opted to pick not the sexiest pajamas nor the ones that provide the easiest access, but I certainly have selected a popular option.
Sweden and hockey, folks.
There in lies that man’s heart.
You know how I LOVE lingerie?
AND Burning Man?
Well, I’m perpetually shopping for items I can bring to Burning Man, especially LINGERIE, since lingerie and bathing suits seems to be par for the course on the playa.
And fuck me for not having a size six body, it would be SO MUCH EASIER if I did.
Instead I have to get custom work and shop plus size rave clothing.
It’s not easy.
Especially since I stumbled across Bad Star Lingerie!
Well, fuck me with a knife and call me Stanley, I literally DROOLED ALL OVER MY COMPUTER SCREEN.
One of the looks I like is the bathing suit layered over a strappy harness.
It’s comfortable, lightweight, but edgy.
Something about it says “grab me by a strap and pull me to you.”
Bad Star Lingerie has THE MOST GORGEOUS PIECES YOU CAN IMAGINE.
So lovely in fact that I suspect I’d choose to wear them along with some pasties covering my nipples.
HOWEVER, that look probably works best on a size six frame.
So all you burner girls out there with tight size six bodies, here you go.
This one’s for you. . .
I’m not sure how to write this post without using a lot of euphemisms, so bear with me.
Recently, I’ve run into a guy who has a panty fetish.
Not THAT kind of panty fetish.
He doesn’t like wearing them (though I’ve come across those who do).
He likes to, ahem, sniff them.
Not a clean pair fresh from the laundry pile, mind you.
He prefers panties that have been worn all day and are slightly, ahem, damp.
He asked me to describe what my panties smell like after a day of work.
I don’t know about you but the only time I sniff my panties is when I’m trying to figure out if that pair on the floor is clean or dirty.
So I said the only thing that came to mind.
They smell sweet and musky.
Well, he just about DIED.
Say it again, he requested.
Sweet and musky.
So now, when I go out on a date with this guy, he is expecting me to hand over to him the panties I am wearing.
I do believe that I am going to wear TWO pairs of panties that day.
One pair for reals, and one pair for him.
He’ll get to keep the outer pair of panties while I can continue to enjoy the comfort of my inner pair of panties.
And both of us go home happy.
It’s a universal dilemma for women, I think.
You can wear granny panties that SUCK YOU IN (they’re called Spanx) and give you a smooth silhouette, or you can wear sexy lingerie which lets all the lumps and bumps show.
If you desire to wear sexy lingerie AND have a SMOOTH silhouette, you encounter a Catch 22.
The desired outcome is impossible to attain because of contradictory rules and conditions.
I have (on occasion) worn my SPANX under my clothes to parties and on dates in order to look sleek and smooth.
Those scary looking girdles really hold you in!
Then, when I’m going to “get busy” I go to the bathroom and CHANGE into my sexy underwear.
Something black and lacy, perhaps?
Or vibrant red and trimmed with velvet?
Of course, I always wonder if my date can tell that something is different.
All of a sudden I have a tummy.
Or my hips have love handles.
What’s up with that, he might think?
No one has ever said anything to me, so I suspect I’ve managed to SLIP IT UNDER THEIR RADAR.
But now I’ve bought an under-the-bust corset to even further the charade that I’m shaped like the perfect hourglass.
I imagine I’ll get totally screwed when it comes to getting naked, however.
No pun intended, but it’s virtually impossible to get out of a corset without help.
But it could work to my advantage seeing as how a woman in nothing but an under-the-bust corset is actually pretty damn sexy.
Think voluptuous breasts and an ample rear end.
I’m quite sure I could get this to work for me.
I hoard certain things.
I think it’s very odd that I hoard these things because the truth is (other than the costumes), I BARELY use any of it.
I just feel compelled to buy it.
Take lingerie for instance.
I have five drawers FULL of lingerie.
I used to have seven but I downsized.
The other day I bought aqua, lavender, and pink camisoles for an outfit for Burning Man.
You’d think the shopping was finished after I bought those, but you’d be wrong.
I had to buy matching lingerie.
Will anyone ever see my lingerie?
I certainly hope so, but it’s not very likely.
The last opportunity I had to show off lingerie was with the Swede and instead of trying to (drunkenly) get into a teddy held together by delicate little straps and lace, I opted to sleep IN THE NUDE.
My son came into my room as I was buying a push up, pink racerback bra.
He glanced at my computer screen, saw the description of the bra, looked me square in the eye and said. . .
“Do you REALLY need a push up bra, mom? Isn’t that being a bit redundant?”
From the mouths of babes.
Be prepared. If you order latex panties online they’re going to look like something your grandma might wear. Minus the whole latex thing, of course because your grandma’s not a freak like that.
I tried to slip into them. It sounded like an orgy of latex balloons rubbing up against each other.
It was absolutely hilarious!
It took me about five minutes to work the panties up my legs and I was cringing the whole time because I sunburned my ass on vacation and the latex dragged against my legs.
Finally, I got them up.
And my butt is either bigger than I remember or I put the panties on the wrong way. My ass hung out for miles.
How did it look?
Not too shabby. I definitely like the look of latex.
The story doesn’t end here though, oh no! You see the other part about wearing latex panties is having to take them off.
I made a tiny little tourniquet with them as I rolled them down my legs. Inch by inch, with the wonderful latex-on-hot-skin sound playing the entire way down.
In the end, I had a tidy little figure eight of latex handcuffing my ankles together.
No one told me this would happen.
And that’s when it occurred to me.
If I was fooling around with someone and he went to remove my panties, he’d have to yank them down my body to a chorus of rubber farts.
Definitely NOT sexy.
But perhaps it doesn’t matter. I mean after all, you’re wearing latex undies and that’s pretty damn sexy.
Last Saturday, Barbara convinced me to go for a bra fitting at Nordstrom.
She lured me in with the promise of the best Taiwanese dim sum at Din Tai Fung.
They have a Michelin star.
And boy was the food awesome!
I licked my plate clean, I swear.
But on to the bra fitting.
I went into a fitting room with Debbie, my Nordstom bra fitter.
I got topless.
She pulled out her measuring tape and measured me. . .
. . . and declared me to be a 38G.
I didn’t even know that boobs could grow that big, let alone that they make bras that big!
All along I thought I was a D. Perhaps a double D.
But Barbara knew better.
Debbie proceeded to find me bras and helped me try them on.
Odd being topless around a fully clothed stranger, but okay. . .
In the end, I bought one bra.
Apparently well sized bras for big boobs don’t come cheap.
As you all know, I very much enjoy being single and playing the field.
No, this is not a post about that.
This is a post about the TOTAL WASTE OF SPACE MY LINGERIE COLLECTION IS TAKING UP.
It’s so UNDERUSED.
Do I need to wear a sign around my neck that says date me?
Or maybe it should say something else?
Don’t go there.
Even if there was a man I could wear lingerie for, I doubt he’d appreciate it.
Honestly, I can count on one hand the number of times a man has stopped in the middle of the action to remark on my lingerie.
It’s just something that gets in the way of all that delicious nudity.
On the other hand, if I had a nickel for every time a man paused, shook his head slowly, and remarked on what a nice body I have, I’d be rich.
Well, I’d at least be able to buy myself a beer.