That joy of tidying up thing: underwear edition

too-many-clothesToday I decided it was time to unwedge my dresser drawers and get rid of all the clothing that wasn’t “bringing me joy”. I dug out all the shirts that had lost their joie de vivre – the ones from cheap shops that were light and woven by factories where toxic chemicals are regularly present. I pulled out the wool sweaters I’d washed in hot. Actually, ALL the wool sweaters had to go, as my allergy to wool increases.

I sacrificed the pants I’ve been wearing for years with the turned up hem that refuses to stay in place. (I’d wear them and say to myself, “A turned-up hem means you’ll travel!” I did travel. Still living on peanut butter on toast paying for it.) I let go of socks that had done yeoman’s service for ten years or more. I didn’t thank them for their service, but we did share a moment. I tossed the dressy shirts of scratchy polyester. We didn’t have a moment but my 100% cotton sweatshirts could be heard snickering.


It was all going swimmingly until I got to my underwear drawer…

Those delicates desperately in need of bleach were an easy heave. The bras with the underwire teeth already bared I discarded with extreme prejudice.


But what about the sexy undies I’d bought in hope and thrill, thinking about what might happen when they were on? They slipped liquidly around in my hands, still in almost brand new condition

They made me laugh, made me wistful, tossed me into a meadow of memories. I couldn’t believe I actually had bought some of the things I found crumpled in the back of the drawer.


Some were too uncomfortable to even wear, bought in a naughty mood and tucked away – those ones that ride into uncomfortable places and make you walk funny. Some had lace so scratchy I’d have needed band-aids after wearing. (I thought that maybe it would soften after washing. It didn’t.)

The thing is, lingerie really is for the person wearing it. In me, it somehow creates confidence, a jaunty walk, a feeling of being sexy, even in an unfit self. There is something so pretty, so feminine, about those threads of undies.

I can slip on something light and lacy and maybe some pull-up stockings, and feel like I could be that woman who gets the bacon and fries it up in a pan…

… until the elastic attacks something it shouldn’t and I limp unattractively to the nearest washroom to detach myself. Heaven forbid I should try to tuck a tiny panty liner into them as the liner will immediately glue my buttocks together and make walking exquisitely painful. And awkward.

Ridiculous, really, given my body, rounded by chocolate, split by three huge pregnancies, tired and partially bionic. Kind of like putting those little ruffled hats on turkey legs…


But I just can’t let all of them go!! Dreams die hard. The urge to feel sexy dies even harder. (Ask any 70-year-old man) And the gym opens soon. I can be buff again. Can’t I?

Laughing, I tuck a few of the least painful ones back into my drawer. If nothing else, I can wear them and walk about with a knowing twinkle in my eye. And that brings me joy…bb9dc47145b341c55dcd0f0a5be22cb9--vintage-lingerie-nice-things


3 thoughts on “That joy of tidying up thing: underwear edition

  1. Dolly Hei

    Lots of smiles in this one, DA, and I can always use those. I tend to stick with fairly utilitarian underwear that lasts for years and years so I don’t have to go through the torment of the dressing room. French cut legs on panties are my favorite but they’re almost impossible to find now, even online, so I hang onto my dozen or so pairs and hope they don’t fall apart before I do. Old bras grow as shapeless and soft as my body, so we’re a match, and who needs perky breasts anyway, at 86. I save a lot of money by being so easy to please in the lingerie department. Spend it instead in thrift shops where i can still find shirts made of real fabric in the simple style that suits me, and soft tees in a rainbow of shades to go with all those overskirts – decided to emulate Katharine Hepburn’s rolled-sleeve look of the forties when I was about that age and never looked back. Denim pants with embroidered back pockets and a pair of shirts, that’s my look. Makes me feel rich to have a closetful because I always wanted more clothes than I had as a girl. But I’d never pay full price to fill the closet. Nope, born during the Great Depression and brought up on my mother’s stories about it, I’ll never get past my frugal ways and simple needs. Except for travel – but that’s another story…

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