Tuesday, July 16, 2013

I know what Victoria's secret is.

If at any time this becomes TMI you are welcome to stop reading, but with all due respect, you are on my personal blog.

#end disclaimer#

At some point in a relationship, I'd like to think that most couples come up with an underpants problem. Like - his preference is that cute lacy thing you wore once or twice, and yours is that really comfortable cotton stuff that gets lost against your skin beneath your jeans. I hate reminder underwear. You know, the stuff that hikes up your rear in an attempt to tap your shoulder and remind you it's there.

I think the problem I'm having right now is that I saw myself in that mesh thing you get after having a baby in the hospital that Jason and I referred to as Vicki's Don't Tell Nobody. Ever since I wore that thing in front of my husband, I've felt like we both have a scarred vision of me in underthings. I have been trying to work my way back into the nice stuff, but I am having trouble. I don't feeeeel like I look like those Victoria's Secret girls. You see, that's where they get you...

They've got ads and pictures up of these beyond-human amazing looking women, and somehow when you purchase those lacy bits of dental floss you hang onto a dream that you - yes YOU - kind of sort of look something kind of sort of like them when you wear it. Or that maybe your partner will get drunk enough to see you that way too. That's what they want you to think. Secret exploited.

Here's my secret -
I'm going to open a store called Build-a-Pants. It will be a lot like that one bear store for kids only you take your dream angels butt in there, they remove the fluff, you put wishes into it, and the result is something I will label as CompromiseWear. Somehow it will look to your husband like shiny, lacy layers of awesome, but to your butt it will feel like the fur of a holy kitten.

That's all.

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