Hey look, it’s a pile of my underwear!
It’s a pile of underwear that is now in the trash! Twist! Didn’t see that coming, did you?
I am moving, which I have not done in several years, and consequently I’m throwing away alllll kinds of shiz that I really don’t need. First on the list, socks with holes. Second on the list, underwear that I never wear. Like, literally, never. Okay, maybe a few times, a long time ago, when I thought I was being soooo cool. Now I am old and I don’t care about being cool anymore and I don’t really enjoy the sensation of lace all up around my junk. So, this week, for Role/Reboot I wrote about throwing out my lingerie.
Key Note: This is not, in any way, shape, or form, an admonishment that you should throw away your underwear. I mean, knock yourself out if you’re feeling my vibes, but this is a piece about owning your own sexuality, in whatever wardrobe feels most authentic to yourself. What I learned, in this experiment, is that the picture above is decidedly not me.
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