A Blog About Drawers

A blog about the mundane things that sometimes fill my head.

I'm not sure when What kind of underwear do you prefer became an acceptable question for political or romantic candidates. I have asked it myself mostly because it seemed harmless yet titillating enough to open the door on something more...ummm...suggestive. I didn't think I cared what kinda drawers my man wore. I was mostly interested in getting him out of them anyway.

Was I ever surprised to find recently that I now LOATHE tighty whities. What!?! When did that happen!?! Truth. It is irrational. I have areas that are not logical and I refuse to apologize for them. This is one of them. It is not the brief style. Colored briefs I find sexy and fun. It is that Wonder-bread-ness of the white briefs. Maybe it is the white period. When you have a sea of color choices in front of you what does it say that you choose white - again and again and again? Not one pair of black briefs? Not one pair of leopard bikinis or pale blue boxers?

What does your underwear choice say about you as a free thinking individual? Hmmmmm.........

To me white briefs are the soul of conservative and old-fashioned. Color says you are fun and adventurous. A man who can sport boxers likes to control things. And a dude in a thong - watch the fuck out!!!

Guys, Ima put it in terms you can understand. Tighty whities are the equivalent of white granny panties. We all know how you feel about those. If you are under the age of 70, they just need to GO!

Now onto the TMI portion of the blog......

My first clothing purchase was not the green chucks or blue jeans that my mom initially refused, but eventually bought me. It was bikini underwear. I was maybe 11 and would have worn the granny panties aka the standard Catholic underpants until I was dead if she had her way. I knew that arguing for bikini underwear would be pointless. My mom would refuse. I would whine and pout. But she would win that argument. So I did what any self-respecting rebellious hellion would do. I saved my money and bought my own damn underwear. A 5 pack of pastel colored bikini undies. I loved those drawers. I felt strong and empowered every time I wore them. Self-assured. In control. And thus began my love affair with lingerie.

If you were to open my lingerie drawer, or drawers as the case may be, you would not find a single white garment in there. Instead it is like a Fauvist painting - the red bustier next to the canary demi juxtapose the lime green seamless bra. All layered over a sea of silk and cotton panties in every style imaginable, blue, black, purple, green, ecru. I love the explosion of color every morning when I open this drawer. Choosing the items to wear for a day becomes an event with hidden layers of color beneath my drab and ever present T-shirt and jeans. But it always makes me smile and that's a good way to start any day. From that unknown hit of color under my clothes comes a sense of being alive. Of being me even if the world can't see it at the moment.

A friend of mine called one day and asked what I was doing. I told him I was in a crappy mood and shopping for bras to make me feel better. He laughed so hard he dropped his phone. I know it's weird. When other women go shoe shopping, I will shop for a bustier, a pair of satin panties or a push up bra. I know that the Caribbean blue ones will make me feel floaty while the red ones will make me want to flay someone alive. That there is a power in that purple and gold bra and matching lace panties that makes me feel like a Rani. Like I could seduce anyone with my eyes or my words. Or break into some long-forgotten tantric dance. I can't imagine getting dressed every morning without this. So is it really a surprise that I loathe the tighty whities? Not really. They are just a sad and unimaginative choice to my way of thinking.