Me & My Lingerie

I really enjoy wearing lingerie. I always have. When I was three years of age, I discovered a gorgeous floating pastel negligee belonging to my mother. It was very "Seventies" and very inviting. I would put it on over my clothes, with a pair of her shimmering stilettos and dark lipstick, and this is how I would watch Sesame Street and eat dinner. I am not kidding. Lingerie makes me feel beautiful and feminine. I like to look down and not be able to see my toes, on account of the new cleavage that my push-up bra has afforded me. It makes me feel like a woman, like me.

Then came my boyfriend. "What should we do for Valentine's?" I asked him recently. I decided to start musing about our plans for the lovers' holiday in advance. This way maybe we wouldn't be on the couch as usual, eating Indian takeout and flicking between 24 and Extreme Makeover.

"Doesn't matter," he replied, "as long as you wear a tight red bra, a red panty that shows half your bum, red stockings and tall shoes." Translation: We'll be on the couch, eating Indian takeout and flicking between 24 and Extreme Makeover. But I'll be wearing sexy lingerie. After three years I can now safely say that as long as lingerie is involved, my partner could care less how we spend our time together. Most of the time, I don't mind. But sometimes I wish I could just putter around the house in it without my other half thinking it's a sexual invitation. I like to put it on for me.

Some people wear T-shirts when relaxing. Others wear jogging suits. I wear a negligee. For me there is nothing more relaxing than coming home after a long day, having a hot shower, smoothing on my creamy lotion and lounging on my own around my humble palace in a silky, gauzy, soft veil of fabric.

I think my love of lingerie can be traced to film noir. I didn't understand all the movies I saw as a young child, but I remember that I was mesmerized by the women in those Sunday-afternoon films. Every one of them was beautiful and vivacious and glamorous, and that's exactly what I wanted to be. Fast-forward 20 years, and I am still that girl.

Lingerie has never been about being sexy for me; in fact, I'm too prudish to shop for it with anyone in tow. When I was first dating my boyfriend and he asked me if I liked lingerie, I was taken aback. Who is this psycho asking me about my undergarments? I thought. Is he a pervert? For me the thrill of lingerie has always been more about being feminine than seductive. I love the frills and delicateness of the garments, and the way I feel like a princess when I wear my chemises, teddies, gowns and French knickers.

Every once in a while my partner notices a "new" slip or camisole in our laundry. The first words out of his mouth are, "Why haven't I seen you in this? Have you been keeping these for yourself?"

Damn right.

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