Women and Lingerie

Had Superman been a woman, boy, would he have had problems. Every morning would have been an endless supply of doubts and frustration. What underwear should I wear? Is it flattering? Is the colour okay? I can't wear red underwear ALL THE TIME! Everybody will think I'm a giant bore! My god, this cut makes my thighs look like Hercules'! (Although, I suppose, saying that to Superman would mean paying him a huge compliment. But you get the picture.)
Even though women seldom- if ever- wear their lingerie on the outside of their clothes, their problems make  Superman's hypothetical ones look like molehills before mountains. (Even though being stuck with molehills could very well be something some of us may have to deal with.). Every morning is a Pandora's box of revelations, unanswered questions and self-annihilating "discoveries", as we like to call them, but know, in saner and more secure moments, that they are just baseless and pointless fears. (I think.)
Either way, lingerie is the single most important component of any woman's closet. Irrespective of whether or not somebody is going to see it. Everything matters. I mean everything. Name it, and it's relevant to the grander scheme of lingerie-buying, and morning-to-morning What-Lingerie-Do-I-Wear-Today decisions.
Any woman who is reading this, shaking her head and saying "Psh. Not me."- Liar. You know you care. I don't need to tell you that. Go out and buy yourself a nice new bra in your favourite colour, and tell me that it doesn't make you happy.
All the men who are reading this- well, I don't know why you are, really. Although it's always nice to know you're working on understanding what women care about.
I'm all for the 'each woman is unique' thing, but this is the one, I repeat ONE common thread that binds us. Like the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Except when I say pants, I don't quite mean pants.
Good lingerie can make or break your day, really. We all know that. Men- you too. I know you're thinking about it. If you sit down and make a mental checklist of everything you think about when you buy a piece of lingerie- any piece of lingerie- underwear, stockings, corsets- whatever- you'll know how the things you consider are nothing like what you consider when you buy a shirt, or a pair of pants. Not even a pair of shoes. (I'm not a fan of...well, shoes in general, but I do understand how important they seem to be to a vast majority of our kind. And by kind, I mean gender.)
You look at a shirt in a store, and go: "Huh. It looks great. Where will I wear it? If it's only going to make me feel nice once in a while and I won't get use out of it, what's the point? I don't want to buy one shirt that'll make me feel special thrice in my life, instead of three shirts that I can wear every three days."
When you look at lingerie, you go, "Why should I buy this? It may be relatively inexpensive, and it may go with everything, but does it make me feel special? I don't want to skimp out on the expenses, and buy three irrelevant *insert whatever you're buying here*, instead of one great *insert previous term again* that makes me feel like the queen of the world."
Of course, we obsess about IDIOT things while we're at it. I don't say idiot because we shouldn't be obsessing about them- I'm fairly sure I'm obsessing about at least one of them right now. I say idiot because there really is no end to the obsession. Things like, "My bra and my underwear don't colour coordinate exactly. What if someone notices?! What if the next person who sees my underwear, thinks I look like a clown, because my top half and bottom half are differently coloured?" Of course, not everybody has this particular problem- some of us enjoy a little colour under our clothes. To hell with matching, we want the clash. Fair enough. But not to worry, there are lingerie-related problems for all kinds of people, irrespective of colour, caste, nationality, lalala. How about "I have that date today, but I'm not sure if he is going to see my lingerie today, so maybe I should bring out the lace, just in case. But the lace underwear is UNCOMFORTABLE. Maybe I should put them in my bag, and excuse myself and go to the washroom, and change them, and...". And while these worries are universal, both in their occurrence and pointlessness, there are far more pertinent things to do, whilst shopping for, or choosing what lingerie to wear every morning. Bikini waxes, panty lines, love handles (I always wondered why they had anything to do with love. Isn't that supposed to make you fitter? Anyway.), ill-fitting bras, those damn clasps that insist on popping open when you're sitting in class and minding your own business.
Damn this lingerie business, and bless it, too.
I don't think men have such pressing problems. Boxers or briefs, sounds like the most intensive problem they're likely to have. And, from what I've been told, they're more thankful for lingerie than you are.
In fact, as a friend told me a while ago, "We don't care if you don't match. We don't care if you're wearing neon (Ooh!) underwear. It doesn't matter. We're just happy we got to see your lingerie, at all."
Sounds fair. Of course, perhaps there are boundaries. Like I'm fairly sure this:

Is not the same as this:

But thank you, anyway, gentlemen. You make our lingerie...uh...fit.

All in all, lingerie is like chocolate. It feels good. Always. On a bad day, it lifts you up. On a good day, it perks your euphoria. A Victoria's Secret catalogue may make you feel like shit, but going out, buying a good pair of stockings and rolling them on can make you feel like Mrs. Robinson in five seconds flat. And we all want to be Mrs. Robinson. Don't deny it, now.
That's her, in case you were confused. If you don't know who she is, go find out. It's worth it, I swear.



I remember stumbling across a couple of articles, that said "The colour of a woman's underwear speaks volumes about the kind of lover she is." To that, I say, balls. A woman who owns pink, black, red and nude underwear, is not schizophrenic. She is just smart enough to know, that when she is out shopping, her choices are not based on whether she wants to be loved tenderly or primally, but which side of the bed she woke up on. And besides, no lingerie is boring unless you want it to be.
What's of greater import, however, is that the magic of lingerie lies in it's ability to seamlessly settle into your personality, and make you fall in love with yourself. Not to mention, make some-lucky-body else fall in love with you. It could be mysterious, bold, flirtatious. Anything you want it to be.
Of course, I could blabber about this forever. It's one of those profound, yet fond subjects of discussion.

It's all about drawing the line, really. Panty or otherwise.