Yes, I Did Say "Lingerie Drawer"
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!