sexy lingerie? BYE, FELICIA!

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog

When I first met my husband, I was 26 and he was 25. I rocked a body back then, and so did he. That time was a time of mutual physical admiration, lots and lots of getting-to-know-you sex, and (at least in my case) an almost unholy amount of tiny underthings.

Tiny underthings. Those over-sheer wisps of mesh and lace that look sexy as hell but offer basically nothing in the way of foundation or support. Tiny underthings can range from demi-bras to balconettes, gartered stockings to lace-top thigh highs, teeny bikini-cut panties to thong underwear that constitutes little more than a string and a prayer.

During that first year with my husband, I went on regular shopping sprees for new dainties. I was known to descend on the lingerie shops shrieking “TAKE MY MONEY” until my bank account was drained and a thousand tiny pink bags of useless lace fragments were mine.

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog
‘Twas my home away from home.

However, much to my husband’s disappointment, my flirtation with tiny underthings did not last long. Mainly because THAT SHIT IS UNCOMFORTABLE. AND EXPENSIVE. AND HIGH-MAINTENANCE. Don’t get me wrong, I cast no aspersions upon women who manage to make sexy lingerie work for them. But I myself just . . . couldn’t. Believe me, I tried.

And I failed.

You see, after about a year of tiny underthings, several realities about them became abundantly clear:

  • Tiny underthings did not play nice with my vajay. They were itchy, clammy, and yeast infection-y. My vaginal chemistry was *never* happy. I longed for a cotton gusset.
  • Tiny underthings required too much special washing and handling. My mother told me: “Buy a lingerie bag, some Woolite, and throw it all in the washing machine on delicate.” Lingerie bag? Woolite? A washing machine cycle other than “whatever it’s already on”? Yeah, none of that ever happened. I threw my expensive lingerie in the wash with towels and jeans, and watched it disintegrate instantly.
  • Tiny underthings simply don’t cut it when you’re a relatively busty woman with considerable back door biscuits. To put it bluntly, I needed lingerie with a lot more muscle and know-how. I required underwire. I required full coverage. I required reinforced straps and a serious amount of hooks. I required bras so big that my husband and I could stand side by side and wear each cup as a hat (and later did.)

So I gave up on tiny underthings, as well as the extra helping of self-confidence that comes with them. But you know what? I have no regrets. Because, you see, I no longer have quadra-boob from trying to stuff my flabby bosom into a too-small balconette bra that the Victoria’s Secret saleswomen ASSURED me would fit like a glove. I no longer have crack chafe from a gritty piece of butt floss jammed in my sweaty swamp-ass all day. And best of all? Yeast infections are at an all-time low.

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog
My “now” undergarments: 1) A humongous yet functional bra that is beyond mangled from having been washed repeatedly with things like jeans, sneakers, and possibly chunks of rebar; and 2) A humongous pair of granny panties that are faded as all hell but would undoubtedly work great in place of a mainsail or field tarp.

And just so you know? While I may have moved on to full-coverage old lady bras and 100% cotton underdudes years ago, I’ve only just recently taken the next step. What many might consider the LAST step. You see, I had a hysterectomy, and now there’s a big old abdominal scar that’s right where the elastic part of my old cotton panties nestle into the roll. I can’t have that anymore. I’m all numb down there, and the skin around my hysterectomy scar feels weird, and I just don’t like anything touching it. (Hyster sisters, I know you feel me.)

So what’s the solution? I hear you asking.

The solution, my dears, is granny panties. And if you don’t have any? I HIGHLY SUGGEST PICKING SOME UP. They are comfortable. They are supportive. They are beloved of hipsters everywhere. Oh, you’re worried they’re unsexy? Well to that I say: husbands and boyfriends and partners of all gender identities be damned. It’s time for them to grow up, move on from their fixation with tiny underthings, and say: “Sexy lingerie? BYE, FELICIA!”

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog
My feelings on the subject of lingerie THESE days.

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An earlier version of this piece was published in 2014 on BLUNTmoms.

If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“Bloomers – Rear Image”: CC BY 2.0; File:Bloomers Rear Image.png; Uploaded by З2Х; Created: 17 July 2010
“Panties styles”: CC BY-SA 3.0; File:Panties styles – en.svg; Uploaded by Moyogo; Created: 5 June 2010 — Modified
“Victoria’s Secret Store”: CC BY-SA 3.0; File:Victoria’s Secret Store 9, 722 Lexington Ave, New York, NY 10022, USA – Dec 2012.JPG; Uploaded by WestportWiki; Created: 3 December 2012

my day off

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

A couple of weeks ago, my husband approached me and spoke the words I’ve been longing to hear since our son was born.

No, not: “I’m finally going to stop bugging you about butt stuff.”

No, not: “I’m so over sticking my hands down my pants while watching television.”

No, not: “I promise to never again leave my dirty clothes on the kitchen floor after coming home from work and undressing in front of the stove like a crazy person.”

(Though, let’s be honest. I never had the slightest expectation that my husband would say any of those things. Because I am a realistic woman.)

This is what he did say, however:

“So . . . I’m thinking about taking our son on a day trip.” 

Here was my external reaction:

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog
“Ho hum. Whatevs. Like I care. I’ve already forgotten what you just said. I’m out, y’all. PEACE.”

My internal reaction, however, was more like:

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog
“I’VE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY ABOUT ANYTHING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. NOT EVEN BREATHING. NOT EVEN JESUS. NOT EVEN CADBURY SCREME EGGS.”

“Oh, really?” I replied, casually. “Where you gonna take him?”

“Down to Cincinnati to watch Nadal play some tennis.”

“Huh,” I said, disinterestedly. Because you gots to play it cool, am I right? Even when you’re already making a “My Day Off” mix tape in your head. (First song? “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang.)

“Wanna come along?” asked my husband.

Um . . .

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

But it was a fine line I needed to walk. I had to seem like I wanted to go, but not enough to make my husband think I really should go.

“Nah,” I smiled. “You two go on and have a special father-son day.”

“You sure?” asked my husband, sounding concerned. “You won’t be too lonely?”

Now. I’m all about Real Talk here on est. 1975, so I’ll freely admit that what was running through my head was this:

“FUCK NO, I WILL NOT BE LONELY. ARE YOU KIDDING? I’M ACTUALLY GOING TO HAVE AN ENTIRE TWELVE HOURS ALL TO MYSELF! THIS IS BETTER THAN WINNING THE LOTTERY. THIS IS BETTER THAN MULTIPLE ORGASMS. THIS IS BETTER THAN PEEING AFTER YOU REALLY HAVE TO GO FOR LIKE FIVE HOURS.”

But what I actually said was this: “Of course I won’t be lonely! You guys will have an awesome time.”

Wow. Such cool. Very cucumber.

So my husband and son clambered into the car, all excited to go watch athletes of some nature play some kind of sport I didn’t care about, and I waved at them through the window and blew them a thousand kisses. Kisses that were fake as hell. Because as soon as my husband’s car was out of sight, My Day Off began.

I even had an agenda.

MY DAY OFF: AGENDA

10:30 AM: Immediately turn off the television. Relish the fact that for twelve hours I will not once have to watch SportsCenter or hear the theme song to Teen Titans Go!

11:00 AM: Go directly to KFC for lunch. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Do not wear a bra or put on deodorant.

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog
I want fried chicken in my mouth and I want it now.

12:00 PM: *burp*

12:30 PM: Say to myself: “While they’re gone, I might as well get some work done.” Then laugh and laugh because YEAH, RIGHT. Spend the next two hours watching YouTube videos.

2:30 PM: Start to feel legitimately bad about not doing anything productive. Do three sit-ups and feed the cat.

3:00 PM: ZZZzzzzz.

5:00 PM: Wake up from my nap with a mouth as dry and gritty as the floor of an ancient Egyptian burial chamber. Chug five glasses of water while watching more YouTube.

6:30 PM: *beep boop beep* “Hello, is this Pizza Hut?”

8:00 PM: “Shit. They’re going to be back in less than three hours. I haven’t done any work. I haven’t done any cleaning. I haven’t even showered. I better get something done pronto. But first, I’ll just check Facebook.”

8:30 PM: Still on Facebook.

9:00 PM: Still on Facebook.

9:30 PM: Still on Facebook.

10:00 PM: Realize that My Day Off is almost over and I have literally nothing to show for it. Decide to at least put on some clean pajamas, then change my mind, because that would just make for extra laundry.

10:30 PM: Hear the garage door open. Quickly dive into bed, turn off the lamp, and commence with fake snoring, because twelve hours clearly wasn’t enough time alone and I still want more. Does that make me a bad wife and mother? Maybe. Do I care?

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

Not even a little.

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If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“KFC Store” – CC BY 2.0; File:KFC signs – Old and New.jpg; Uploaded by Jayblue42; Created: 11 June 2006 — Modified
Michelle Visage .gif – Source unknown, footage from Rupaul’s Drag Race, aired on LogoTV