Under Where?

I have a friend who told me years ago that she determines her mood through her underwear.

I remember that day doing a quick self-inventory of my foundational garments. I was astounded to learn that I must be very sad, worn out and perhaps a touch depressed. Sagging might be a better analysis.

Now this friend is one that believes the clothes closest to your body ought to match, be snappy and potentially make you happy. I am sure she had other moods in mind, but for this blog we will go with “happy” wherever that may take you.

Over the years I have often stopped as I stepped into my drawers and unmatching brassieres and thought, “What am I trying to convey today?” Let me say it has rarely been a moment of high self-worth. Some might say self-loathing.

This has never caused me to rethink my lingerie. Until recently, when I surveyed my current choices. It was a motley collection, cobbled together from a variety of sources. Most assuredly my thought process must have been heavily skewed to economy. Perhaps part of it was driven by the thought of giving up “old friends” who had served me well and traveled life’s highways. Many, if not most, of those “friends” had see much better days. They were VERY deserving of retirement.

It has been so long since anyone of them had been purchased, I had to first recover from the sticker shock of today’s panties pricing. (Don’t even get me started on bras!) One does not want to make quantity purchases until you know if the fit is comfy. Thank heavens it was just after Christmas when the mood struck, and I found three pairs on sale. It seemed like a good number for testing purposes. I would not make a huge mistake if wearability was off, but I would have leapt into the future by at least three days.

They have fireworks on them and popping champagne corks. There is a touch of sparkle. I felt that this would tell the world, or at least my body, that we were celebrating being alive.

As they joined the veterans in my drawer you could see the separation and obvious division. Now I faced a daily dilemma. Default to blah or add a bit of zip to the day. I had to choose wisely as I only had three days’ worth of “Ta-Dah” and far more “Waaah, Waaah.” I told myself I would just have to try to override the mundane and desperate with more of my own pizzazz. But I knew.

The universe stepped in luckily in March with a big sale on the brand I had discovered in the after-holiday bin. They hit my price point and came in a variety of colors and designs. My life transformed overnight.

Recently as I was perusing my options, I had a thought. My underwear are my version of “the red hat.” As I don my happy knickers, I know that I am silently skipping with joy amongst my fellow earth campers wearing something most would find ridiculous at my age. But boy is it fun!!!

Maybe bras are next?