Turns out Tuesday was National Lingerie Day. Which I learned because a bra company wanted to sell me all the lacy things and my on-line shopping proclivities render me defenseless to the gods and goddesses of retail spam email.
Leaving the obvious absurdity of National Lingerie Day even being a thing (and my resulting disappointment in the humanity behind it), let’s discuss. Personally, I have a love-hate relationship with lingerie. Some argue it’s a frivolous waste of money in an ever-growing field of consumerism designed to simultaneously objectify women and take their money. I could launch into a sociological analysis on both sides of that argument, but who the fuck wants to read that? About such an important holiday no less! I argue that the right lingerie can make a woman feel powerful AF. It has nothing to do with anyone else seeing it, it’s all about the confidence feeling sexy instills. When a woman looks at herself in the mirror and thinks, “oh HELL yes” her whole day changes. She sits up straighter, walks with intention, and exudes a certain boldness.
This, of course, can translate into the bedroom (or kitchen, or laundry room, I don’t judge), but that’s a secondary bonus – one that I’ve found men to be completely clueless about (in my oh so vast experience). I’ve heard everything from “I don’t see the point to lingerie because it just comes off” (read: I’m never stepping foot in a Victoria’s Secret and I’m scared of complex underthings) to “if you wear a matching bra and panties on a date you expect to get laid” (um, no. See above, idiot). Men, the reality is, if lingerie makes your woman feel good about herself, it will end well for you. If she feels objectified or like she’s wasting her time/money on you, stop being a douchecanoe. Rant = over.
I love the invincible, sexy feeling that comes with great lingerie, but the hate side of my aforementioned love-hate relationship usually results in my donning pieces reminiscent of your grandmother’s girdle rather than Kate Upton’s panty drawer. My volatile love affair with pretty, lacy, frilly underthings comes not from a belief that The Man is trying to stick it to my wallet and my boobs, but from a much shallower place – the cute shit doesn’t come in my size.
I’m genetically blessed with big knockers and small ribs, not to mention the ample party ass to go with them. I know, all you card carrying Itty-Bitty-Titty-Committee members are forming a lynch mob as I type, but I’m telling you sisters, the grass isn’t always greener. That cute little bralette and thong set you picked up at Target on a whim for your weekend away? Yeah, no. If I want to bust out (pun totally intended) something sassy to surprise the lucky bastard that gets to see *this* in all of its glory I either have to A. research, plan, and order in advance to find the proper mix of “sex appeal” and “gravity defying science” or B. wear something I already have that’s a smidge (or 3) too small and stand perfectly still while hunching my left shoulder slightly to compensate for that boob being the “big sister”. Back spasms are sexy.
As I’ve gotten older (and admittedly earned more discretionary income – this shit is expensive), I’ve also learned that few things are more valuable than a proper bra fitting (yes ladies, you’re probably wearing the wrong size), investing in good pieces in that proper size, and knowing that if you exude confidence from the inside out, there’s nothing sexier. So ladies, go on with your bad selves and celebrate National Lingerie Day all year long by rocking whatever makes YOU feel strong. Leave the gilded wings to the genetic anomalies who get paid to walk the runway.
Entertaining side note: Of course, in addition to thinking “fuck lingerie”, I immediately googled “NLD” (as those of us in the know are referring to it) and as far as I can tell it’s existed since, get this, 2015. Which probably explains why it hasn’t made it on to mass-marketed calendars yet. My next logical move was to click on the Images option of the google search, momentarily forgetting that 1. I was at work and 2. The likelihood of NSFW images was pretty much a guarantee. So I waited until I got home to select a few special examples just for you. You’re welcome. Also, at the risk of being accused of being a complete sexist, this is one of the best things I found on the interwebs while “researching” this post. Confidence comes in all shapes, sizes, and genders. You do you!