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Jul022010

The Undergarment Anniversary

Friday, July 2, 2010 at 11:06AM

Today is my tenth wedding anniversary. Yes, I have been married for 3,652 days. My husband says it feels 365,000 days. Not sure what that means but I’ll err on the positive side and chalk it up to the fact that we have been very busy these past ten years with two kids, three moves and an array of exploding toilets.

Today also marks my tenth anniversary of being a mom since I was pregnant when we got married. Aware of my family’s history with fertility problems, we began the baby dance as soon as we got engaged. Pregnant by April, the October wedding was moved to July and my dress exchanged for a larger size. There’s nothing more fun that being too fat to fit into your over planned, expensive wedding dress.

Several weeks ago, my girlfriend and I were talking wedding anniversaries. “I’m going lingerie shopping for our twelfth anniversary. Why don’t you come with me?” she offered.

“You couldn’t pay me to go shopping for lingerie right now,” I said, rolling my eyes with great effect.

No, you couldn’t pay me but you can share a picture of me at a recent film screening in which my bra looks like a tiny ace bandage wrapped around my torso creating a top and bottom bulge. Attractive. And I’m so happy that there are lots of photos of me like that. (If this is too much information for you, stop reading now. I am beyond self-restraint.)

Ten years ago, my underwear drawer was filled with beautiful lingerie from Victoria’s Secret and quaint boutiques of French lace. Now days, it’s pure Costco with a little Target thrown in for variety. I decided it was time for a change. Start the next decade with some new lingerie.

The sales girl at Nordstrom’s was so enthusiastic about the twenty bras she brought to the dressing room, I can only think she pitied me.

“Oh, that looks beautiful,” she exclaimed. “That fits you perfectly.” I looked around for hidden cameras. Was this some kind of Punk’d Candid Camera situation?

The shopping trip was a success, or at least for the sales girl. For that price, I could have bought twenty Costco bras and a large bag of chocolate chips. But these were ‘quality bras,’ she told me, ‘the kind that Oprah likes to wear.’

The next day, I put on my fancy one and headed out the door. I was feeling pretty sassy, if you know what I mean, until I got to my lunch meeting. Sitting at the table, I couldn’t catch my breath. Am I having a panic attack? An asthma attack? My whole rib cage started to ache. I excused myself to the bathroom.

Yes, I was having a heart attack, smack dab in the middle of the bathroom stall. I hurried home, changed into my pajamas and crawled into bed before my kids got home.

Strangely enough, I suddenly felt better. I could breathe. That’s when I realized my fancy pants bra was way too tight. I marched myself back to Nordstrom’s, looking for Miss Lingerie USA. Lucky for her, she wasn’t there to hear my tirade about how perfect is not always comfortable.

That’s a life lesson I keep relearning. Perfect is not comfortable. Thank goodness, I no longer feel the need to be perfect in my marriage. It’s becoming like a set of sheets that keep me warm and cozy. The older they get, the softer they become. Of course, there are those days that the toilet explodes. And that’s when I try and remember ‘for better or for worse,’ a vow to count every day even when it barely fits.

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September 15, 2010 |

sadsa

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