I love gorgeous lingerie.
Ever since I was old enough to put girly bits into some, I've loved pretty bras, panties, garter belts, corsets, camisoles, seamed stockings and such. I don't really like Victoria's Secret. I think they use too much polyester and a lot of the merchandise is not really my taste.
I love finding a good lingerie shop where I can find high-quality well made lingerie. "La Perla" is fine, but frankly out of my budget. Still, there are some exquisite small lingerie shops in San Francisco where you can buy beautiful items and get real "help" from the staff.
For many years, I have replenished my unmentionables in the Spring. There's something about the season that makes me crave lacy, silky, and beautiful "stuff" in pretty colors.
The only problem with gorgeous lingerie is that I want to show it to somebody. I have an overwhelming urge to open the door to the UPS guy and let my robe fall open so he can catch a glimpse of my finery. (Okay, I don't do it, but I do think about it. Okay, yeah, I have done it but it was a long time ago. Okay, it was last Spring actually!)
Don't get me wrong. My husband Alex does smile and say "Uhm, pretty, Honey!" and then goes back to the baseball game. Yeah, it's like that after 20 years of wedded bliss.
Men are funny about their own under-garments. I have to go through Alex's underwear and toss the stuff with holes, torn elastic, and so on. I want to make sure that if he does fool around with a chippie, she will know that he already has a wife who takes care of him.
Left to his own devices, the chippie would probably think "Oh you poor man with no woman to look after you!" and make a real effort to alienate his affections.
I wonder what time UPS will be here on Monday!