Start with your skivvies.

Dear Darling Daughter,

Someday there may come a point when you look down and think, 

What the hell has happened to my life?”

I don’t know what will trigger this. Maybe a job that has you working too much. Or it will be a partner that isn’t who you had envisioned for yourself. Perhaps it will be when you realize you’ve gained a bunch of weight in no time. Or it could be because you are deep into an addiction that has you spiraling out of control. 

But it could also just be when you literally and physically look down...and see that your bra looks like this. 

Unfortunate tituation.

Unfortunate tituation.

This is my current bra - in all its ugly, pointy, daggery glory. I am not proud of this. Because in addition to this underwire rebellion, this over-the-shoulder boulder holder, barely even holds boulders. You can see that it’s more pushing the boulders down the mountain.

I remember Oprah Winfrey once saying that your home was a reflection of your life. If it’s messy and all over the place with no pick-up or organization in sight, your life probably is too. While I completely agree with her (and also have a house that resembles this tornado situation), I have to say that I think the same thing rings true for your underwear. 

Sometimes it can just feel like we’re barely hanging on. Between the kids and the house and the spouse and that needing to make money part of existence and the pets and that whole cooking dinner thing and the friends and desire for fun and exercise and all of the other things that we don’t care about but have to do, and the things we do care about but barely have time to do...

IT ALL GETS HARD. 

And I guess sometimes when life gets hard, bras become sharp. Or in some cases, ripped, stained or granny-esque. And with all the other people, places and things to take care of, my bra possibly puncturing these milk machines somehow got pushed to the end of the list. Wardrobe and hair style being a close second.

BUT. I’ve decided that maybe we should start from the bottom up. Bottom meaning our asses. We need to get ourselves some drawers! Now let me be clear. You do not need to go to some fancy lingerie place where you stand in front of a mirror and have some either incredibly hot or incredibly old woman talk about how your girls need to be lifted and separated. You do not need to go buy some porn star “panties” (my mother is going to be so happy that I used that horrific word) with lace and strings and things that make you feel like you’re not who you say you are. And you do not need to spend all your Adele ticket money on them either. 

Just go to Target or whatever place makes you feel comfortable (I am verrrrry comfortable at Target). And pick out some basic underwear with prints that aren’t faded, elastic that still stretches and colors that aren’t stained. Then get yourself a bra that has all wires on the inside and that keeps your tatas on the inside too. Make sure it actually supports you rather than you keeping it on life support. As a bonus challenge, attempt to get one that isn’t beige or white. No one actually wants an item of clothing labeled “nude” anyway. Go for something called Lady in Red or Pretty in Pink or some other terrible 80’s reference. 

I’m hopeful that when our underthings are good enough to not have to hide under things due to shame and embarrassment, maybe we will feel a little more productive, pretty and put together. And hopefully the rest of our lives will follow. Please let the rest of our lives follow...

If not...hey - at least your tits look good. (.)(.)

-Mom