I am disgusted in my own knicker collection. I really am.
When me and the husband first got together I would buy a new thong for each one of our dates. I got great pleasure in purchasing the cheap ‘buy 3 for £5’ character thongs from Miss Selfridge. My knicker collection was massive. Brazilians, shorts, girl boxers, and lots and lots of thongs.
Now there’s no need to go all feminist on me, I did it for me. I felt empowered by my new knickers. They gave me superpowers, or something. I’m not sure he even gave a shit. He was happier when they were off!
We’ve been together for nearly 11 years, and slowly but surely my knicker collection has changed. The colourful and cute thongs turned into lace and silk, sexy numbers, which then turned into matching bra and knicker sets. Then came the packs of 5 white and black thongs, that I bought in abundance with some plain tshirt bras.
Then I got pregnant.
Do you remember wearing thongs when you were pregnant? If you were a bit stupid like I was with my first, I attempted to wear my thongs for as long as possible. Why? Why the hell would anyone do that to themselves? The day I let go of my thongs and turned to my M&S belly warmer, granny knickers was seriously the best day of my pregnancy. And potentially my life. And I never looked back.
Two pregnancies later, there are no thongs left in my knicker draw. There are no sexy sets or matching sets or lace or frills. There are no Brazilians, there are no shorts, there are no pretty briefs. The drawer is full of white granny pants. All two sizes too big for me. They’re a bit baggy and a bit grey and I wear them every fucking day. And to top it off my bra collection consists of sports bras. Yes. Just sports bras. My tits are massive and full of milk. They are heavy. And they change daily. Hourly even.
What if you get run over I hear you cry? (If you’re my Nan or something) Well, if I get run over, everyone will see my grey granny pants and that they don’t match my sports bra, which is probably a bit bobbly and covered in breast milk.
My husband was at football last week and his mate made a joke about him wearing my knickers to feel sexy, his reply “You’re fucking joking aren’t you? My undies are sexier than her knickers!” And even though his undies are generally white Asda specials that have also gone grey and a big baggy around the arse, he’s probably right.
At least we don’t give a shit together. And what is it they say? “It’s what’s inside that counts!” 😉
I don’t even remember the last time I went into Miss Selfridge.