WARNING: If you are a parent, parent in-law, or a coworker of mine, you may not want to read this post. I am going to talk about underwear.
Back in the day, I was a fan of frilly, lacy, and above all, matching underthings.
My bra always matched my underwear. And my underwear? Well, it usually matched whatever I was wearing. For real.
Then, of course, I got myself knocked up. And maternity underpinnings? Well, as a general rule, they are anything but sexy. I’m sure the theory is that you’re already pregnant, so really, what would be the point? But for me, it was never about what my husband found sexy (or at least not entirely). I just liked to feel, well, pretty.
So, anyway, after the maternity era, there was the ever-so-brief nursing era. And if maternity bras are un-sexy, nursing bras are just gross.
And then? Well, then I was a Mom. A tired, no, exhausted mom. A mom still carrying too much of the baby weight. A mom who had a hard time keeping her kid in clean socks, never mind matching, well, anything for herself.
My Victoria’s Secret “thing” quickly became a thing of the past.
Fast forward three, well almost four years. I’m standing in the bathroom, putting on a used-to-be-nude-now-grey bra. I hauled the strap over my shoulder when “ping,” it bounced back at me.
It was so old, so overused, that the damn thing just broke.
I looked at it. Looked at myself in the mirror. And promptly burst into tears (this may or may not have had anything to do with the “hey are you pregnant or just fat” comment I got earlier in the week).
Who was this woman looking back at me? What had happened to her pride? The Amber I knew would never have been caught dead in such ugly underthings.
I had a little “come to Jesus” moment right then.
Being a mom is awesome. Being a Tired Mom is inevitable. Being an overweight mom…well that’s just the way it is right now. None of the above means I have to give up on the things that make me feel pretty.
And nice underwear? As expensive, frivolous, and maybe even as stupid as it is, makes me feel pretty.
That’s why I went to Victoria’s Secret this weekend.
I won’t lie. It was tough to walk through those doors. I felt like I didn’t belong there anymore – especially since I had my daughter in tow.
But then I looked and saw another tired-looking mom…with her seven-year-old son dragging behind her. And I felt better.
I didn’t shop with my previous abandon. But I did buy enough to make my wallet wince.
And when I walked out of that store with a giant, be-ribboned pink bag over my shoulder?
It was with a smile on my face.
My name is Amber, and I like pretty underwear. So sue me.