Friday, November 11, 2011

'L' Is For...

My boyfriend (this phrase is still very new for me) recently told me that he digs leopard print underthings. Today while I was out running errands, a leopard print bra caught my eye. I hadn't fitted myself for a bra in quite a while, so I had to try on 6 different sizes in order to figure out what size I now wear (38DD if anyone's wondering--not bad, eh?).

While I was going back and forth in and out of the fitting room, a few other items caught my eye. My boyfriend also told me that he likes black and white prints, so yeah, I got an adorable black and white polka-dot bra to go with these amazing black and white polka-dot 5" heels I bought the other day to wear for him. Of course, I got a drawer full of panties to match each as well. I spent more on underwear today than I have in the past three years.

With each trip to and from the fitting room, I saw something else I thought he would like. It dawned on me that I hadn't given a rat's ass about who liked what--or whether my underwear was hot--in years. Years. The cotton Hello Kitty bikini briefs I bought in the Juniors' section had sufficed nicely until now. My vintage Sex Pistols shirt--see-through and full of holes; held together by a single molecule--was my go-to on Saturday mornings. Sundays were made for yoga pants.

Right there in the fitting room, I became aware of an external influence on what I was choosing to wear. In previous incarnations of Carla, I let a man tell me what to wear. A jealous, fearful and controlling man. I dressed to assure him. I dressed to conceal my attractive nature, so as not to make him feel threatened. I was stifled as a person. I ceased to exist and no one noticed--not even me for a while.

I sat there in the leopard bra examining my bust line, my behavior and my motivation...and then my bust line again (I looked REALLY good, if I may say so myself). I threw my guard up for a moment. Was I letting someone tell me what to wear? Mmmm...no. Was I relying on someone else to make me feel beautiful? No--but! Would I have been in a store with a basket full of leopard print bras if it weren't for him? Definitely not. Ah HA! Ah ha what? What was happening here?

I thought about it for a little while longer. It dawned on me that there are some things that happen in the context of a healthy and intimate romantic relationship that don't happen anywhere else in life. Things like a fella says he likes bras of a certain print and a gal goes out and finds them because she likes to see him happy and has fun with him when he's turned on. In the process, she feels a little extra sexy. And there isn't anything wrong with this. This is some of the sweet stuff of life.

'L' is for lots of things. 'L' is for 'leopard'. 'L' is for 'lust'. 'L' is for 'love'.

6 comments:

Chrisa said...

I have a bunch of lacy underthings - some leopard print - that I bust out on occasion, just as a surprise. It's fun. Even after 21 years of marriage. :-)

Splotchy said...

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

ShesAllWrite said...

I never realized how freakin' sexy leopard print was until I tried some on. Grrr...Meow... ;)

Splotchy said...

Excited sigh. :)

Bex said...

Extra Super :)

Alana said...

If it makes you feel happy = good.
If it makes you feel muted = bad.

Sounds to me like you were pretty happy shopping for cute underthings.

Good. :)