Yes, I Did Say "Lingerie Drawer"

Oh, Dearest,

It is painful to admit this, but it's only fair that you know:  For years I wore any old thing to bed--unmatching, unflattering, utterly unromantic pajamas, and even my husband's stained T-shirts.  What was I thinking?  Well, I wasn't, that's all. 

But now I do.  I have comfortable, beautiful pajamas and lovely lingerie. I have panties that match bras, and all of them are beautiful and flattering. And they have their own special place, which is actually a lingerie chest, each drawer filled with a Lavender Bud Sachet (what could be better, and it was given to me because I prayed and told God that it might seem silly and frivolous, but I wanted beautiful lingerie and a beautiful place for it).

You don't need a lingerie chest to begin this fun.  You can use a tote bag if you don't have a spare drawer.  But make what you sleep in uniquely yours, with absolutely nothing that makes you feel unlovely.

I don't put junk into my lingerie chest.  I no longer hang on to things that make me feel lumpy and frumpy, and I no longer hang on to things that are a tad tight, a bit snug. 

I'm after things that make me feel smug, like I know something about myself that, really, is no one else's business.  I know my pink lacy undies match my pink bra, and that I sleep on a feather pillow sprayed with Lavender Linen Spray, and this after my rose-colored ablutions (next letter about that!).  

 Femininity, Dearest, is not the Enemy!

 

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