I have a secret (except it's not really a secret).
I am a lingerie whore.
That's right, I spend outrageous amounts of money on underwear. Victoria's Secret makes a killing off of me--not as much of a killing as Express does, but a killing nonetheless.
However, the balance on my Express card is now down to a measly $282, and... I just paid off my Vicky's card.
I have a Victoria's Secret credit card with a $1200 limit and no balance.
This has never happened before, and I don't like it.
I have been surviving for the past five months in $10 bras from Target. Apparently, women wear these cheap bras all the time. I mean, really, I've heard that there are women who actually wear these things as actual, honest-to-god underwear. Every day!
I need to find these women, take them to Vicky's and show them what their world could be like. There needs to be an intervention for those poor, misguided girls and their unlucky bosoms. I'm assuming that they just don't know any better--how could you put your breasts into one of these $10 Target-brand nightmares when you could be wearing a BioFit or an Ipex? Obviously, these women have never tried a BioFit bra, or else they wouldn't still be buying cheap torture devices from Target.
Unfortunately, I have been driven to the $10 Target bra by necessity. Not knowing what size my boobs are going to be from one month to the next means that I cannot, in good conscience, spend $50+ on a bra that might not fit next week. My girls have swung from a 34C to a 38DD in six months, and I don't even want to think about what's going to happen from there. I've kept the girls locked in tight to their $10 Target prison 24/7, only letting them out to shower--after all, what they don't know about gravity can't hurt them.
Bras aren't really what I wanted to talk about, anyway.
I came dangerously close last week to doing the unthinkable. Sure, I've been damned to the Target bras by necessity, but I almost--almost--picked up a six-pack of underwear at Target, too.
I got as far as looking at the display. I couldn't do it. I could not bring myself to buy generic underwear in a plastic package. Panties should not be sold in bulk. Panties should be roaming free in the vast expanse of the VS PINK panty bar, waiting to be fondled, loved, taken home and used to adorn one's posterior with cute little patterns/pictures/sayings. They should not come pre-folded with cardboard and vacuum-sealed in a plastic envelope.
My panty situation is getting desperate. My ever-widening ass is threatening to leave the last of my size medium panties behind, and my few pair of larges are starting to show some wear. I bought a stash of VS PInk yoga panties (stretchy microfiber, yum!), but the bikini cut gives me wedgies (why was the store out of boyshorts?!). I should probably get around to returning them (I only wore one pair before encountering the wedgie problem).
If I run out of appropriate panties, I have to resort to the very bottom of my underwear drawer, where I keep my undesirables. No, not my unmentionables, my undesirables, because they guarantee that no one will ever desire you once they see you wearing them (and that really defeats the purpose of fancy panties, doesn't it?).
These are the stretched-out, hole-y, stained monstrosities purchased way back in the eighth grade, when I first discovered that underwear doesn't have to come in plastic packages. They were purchased from--shudder--places like K-Mart and J.C. Penney, before my teenage self got smart to Vicky's and the joys of credit debt.
I honestly don't know why I haven't thrown all of the horrible things away yet.
I feel as though I should keep them around until I'm done with being pregnant. After all, I don't have to worry about ruining them--they're already ruined. However, every time I leave the house wearing a pair, I worry about what might happen. If I get into a horrible car accident, someone might see my underwear and be so turned off that they run away, leaving me to die on the side of the road.
Even when faced with certain death if I experience any ill fate while wearing the horrible panties, I can't bring myself to buy pre-packaged underwear. Nor do I like the idea of buying new VS panties, only to christen them with my godawful pregnant downstairs (pregnant women make more va-jay-jay snot than... I don't even know where I was going with that. It's gross. I'm sorry).
For now, I guess I will somehow keep surviving in my $10 Target bra and my horrible old undies. After all, there's only a few months left until I can run back into the welcoming comfort of Victoria's Secret...