I'm becoming one of those women that gets home from work and puts on gross clothes as if she's still single and it doesn't matter. I came home tonight wearing a tailored pair of pants, a cute shirt, a jean jacket and absolutely killer adorable flats. I looked good. Within seconds I was in my closet, tearing these clothes off. Five years ago, this might have been to have a torrid encounter with Mike, but now it's to put on frumpy pj pants and unmatching striped socks. Where are the garters? Where's the teddy? Where's the black satin corset? In my lingerie drawer with the rest of the shower gifts. At the very least, shouldn't I be parading around our house wearing Carrie Bradshaw-esque tight tank tops and skinny jeans with six inch heels just to talk on the phone and pluck my eyebrows?
OK I'm going to defend myself for one second. I did wear all day, and am still wearing, a super saucy g-string with a bow on the ass (part of the shower loot). This was, however, not on purpose. I'm out of clean, every day undies. Do note, though, that the bow is presently peeking out of hideous pj pants with a hint of "come and get me."
This is my saving grace...well, today anyway.
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