If the title of this post doesn't cause me to turn up in some interesting searches, then I don't know what will.
Actually, I read two blog posts on which I feel the need to expand.
First, Bobbi at Gracie Owns Me wrote about getting a bra fitting. She found it rather discomfiting and said she doesn't even say "panties." She prefers "underwear."
This post caused me to remember the one bra fitting I've had in my life. It was probably about 25 years ago (obviously I enjoyed it so much that I haven't longed to try it again).
I saw a sign in a department store, don't remember which one it was, and it said they were going to have someone from Playtex in the store to do bra fittings for free. I'd never had a comfortable bra, so although the thought of a bra fitting made me absolutely cringe, I showed up at the store at the appointed time.
The Playtex representative was a very pretty young woman. She was chatting with a sales clerk. They looked at me with disdain when I whispered I was there for the free bra fitting.
The Playtex girl, who was probably no older than I was, asked questions about what size I was wearing and how did it fit and that sort of thing. I don't remember her taking my measurements. She grabbed a couple of bras and took me to a fitting room with orders to put one on and tell her when I was ready.
I put on the first bra and called out, Excuse me? I'm ready!
She whipped open the door and glared at me. This doesn't fit, she said as if it were my fault. Look. You're pooching out the sides.
Pooching? That must have been a bra technical term. She ordered me to put on the other bra and said she'd be back.
So I put it on and stood there in the dressing room, waiting and waiting and waiting. She never returned.
So I got dressed and walked out. The Queen of Playtex said, Oh, didn't it fit?
Nope, I said, and walked away.
Soon after that I discovered that sports bras had been invented and it was much easier to find a sports bra that fit. Then eventually I tried a bra from Victoria's Secret and figured out the correct size on my own, and I order them online. When I do go into a Victoria's Secret store, the sales clerks always offer me a bra fitting, and I say, No thanks. I know my size.
I don't want random people staring at my boobs in a bra, and then dumping me while I stand around scantily clad. It would be like a date with Coffey when Judy tells him to get his butt home.
As for "panties" v. "underwear," I grew up with some confusion regarding that word. My mom called underwear "pants." When I was in about fifth grade, I realized that what my mom called slacks were called pants by other people and that what my mom called pants were known as underwear or weren't mentioned at all.
I changed my vocabulary to avoid confusion with the rest of the world. I now feel comfortable saying panties, and so I do. For example, after Christmas I told Elvis Aaron Schwarz that I had used a VS gift card to get three sets of matching panties and bras. Then I showed him one of the new sets. While I was in them. He seemed pleased.
|Hi! Remember me?|
My name is Elvis Aaron Schwarz.
I like my baby doll in her panties or out of them.
I always remember to tell her she's beautiful and desirable.
Oh, that Elvis Aaron Schwarz. His compliments are the best cuz he really means them.
And now onto vibrators. Or maybe I should say on to vibrators. Little Lotta Joy reorganized her linen closet. Click HERE to see the results.
Of course, the first thing I noticed is what I think is a vibrator, so being me, which means politely and pleasantly curious about other people's private stuff, I asked if that was a vibrator in the closet. She said no, that it was a curling iron. When a couple of other people commented on my comment, she said that I think anything long and black is a vibrator!
Well, I felt compelled to point out that I don't own a vibrator, but my mom had one. It said on the box that it was a chin vibrator. I think I was in the third grade when she got it. I took it out of the box and put in on my chin and turned it on. I didn't think it felt all that great or relaxing like the box promised.
My mom said, Leave that alone. That's for me.
I never saw the chin vibrator again. I realize now that the curved shape just seemed so right for . . . you know. But I do not want to think about my mom with a vibrator and I don't care that my parents had six kids. Those people who claimed to be my parents did not have sex.
Some people have suggested to me that I need an arsenal of sex toys and have even given me links so I could purchase them online and not go into a store and whisper that I want a vibrator and which kind is best?
I guess when it comes to vibrators I'm like Bobbi about saying underwear. She prefers to say underwear, and I prefer not to have a vibrator.
But if I see a photo of your closet and it obviously has a vibrator in it, then of course I shall very sweetly and innocently ask you about it.
So, to the rest of you who take on organizing projects and post photos of them: Hide the vibrator.
Infinities of love,