I have the most glorious little secret that has been making me smirk ever since I realized it happened.
I forgot to put on underwear this morning. I think it's one of about a half dozen times I've gone without this undergarment in my life. It feels amazing.
First thought. How does ones forget to do that?
Second thought: So what?
I know this will seem like a silly pleasure to you regular Commandos out there, but this is new territory for me and I'm relishing every moment.
You see, my mother birthed me when she was still a teenager. Tsk, tsk babies having babies (That’s my judgmental side rearing its judgy little head. It won't happen again.) I lived a childhood tugged between her concert going, pot smoking, staying out late, hating responsibility ways (A lot like me at 19 minus the kids) and the ways of my much more conservative grandmother who helped her raise me and my sibs.
Somewhere in all that mess I picked up an obsession with being fully clothed at all times. I think it had something to do with how scantily clad my moms and her friends were (nuns compared to the Gossip Girl 19-year-olds today. Wow, when did I turn 87?) and how much my grandmother disapproved. (I have mommy issues, you’ll see.) Oh, and our uber religious society that teaches girls crazy ideas about being Jeezibels and going straight to hell -- used to believe that stuff when I was a kid. Now I just believe in real things like unicorns and leprechauns.
While other babies were running around in diapers and nothing else, I was decked out in great ensembles -- I had the freaking best taste from an early age (and, yes, I've always been this modest. Thank you.) I wore sun dresses, with big floppy hats, coordinating sandals and purses. I wore jeans and t-shirts. I wore onesies. I just wore clothes. Always.
The moment I started getting boobs, which to my prepubescent mortified self was like 11, I insisted on a bra. I wore it all the time. I even slept in it.
Now, after about three decades on the planet, I’m FINALLY starting to be comfortable (enough) with my body. Don't get me wrong. You'll still find me dressed, and well at that, most of the time. And with underpants on, because I think it's probably more sanitary and well, as Bex puts it in Confessions of a Shopaholic "underwear is a basic human right." I just won't be so uptight about it.
So yeah, sitting here in my fancy schmancy office chair sans britches feels pretty darn liberating. Does anyone else know? Nope. (well, technically all of you now know. Props to my three lurrrvely followers!) Does it matter? Only to me.
My BookPage Q&A with Allen Say
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