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Abigail's Secret.

I have a confession to make - I don't own any lingerie. If there's anyone more shocked and disappointed about this, trust me, it's me. How do I write about orgasms that make you spaz like Emily Rose yet not own a single garter belt or negligee? There's a few reasons, with the first one being that I love comfort too much. Truth is, I don't even own cute pajamas. My jammy drawer consist of old sweats and ratty t-shirts, or my mom's martini print set that I forgot to give back to her.

Second reason is it's too fucking cold to go to bed in barely nothing at night. I'm also one of those people that can't sleep naked (unless it's post coital, and even then I still manage to search for my undies in the dark and throw it on). I fear that a spider will crawl up my coochie and I'll pee out its babies soon after. Lastly, and the most problematic, I never felt sexy enough to wear lingerie. When I think of a lacy bustier or strappy bra, the ideal image I see is one of a heaving bosom filling it up, or at least cleavage - two things I do not have. I also don't have a torso or long legs that garter belts would die to be on.

I used to have silly little fantasies of being like those old, Hollywood stars that wore silky robes with marabou collars who floated around the house in heels, when even a simple silky slip is foreign to my body. Instead, I have an old Giants shirt with a hole in the armpit and faded black sweats with bleach spots.

Lately however, with all this healing and manifesting and focusing, I've started to feel more confident and even a little sexy. Ladies, you don't need a man to wear lingerie for. Wear that shit for yourself, celebrate YOU. Wear it under an unsuspecting plain, tank and feel yourself when the strap slips. Don't wait for someone to buy you lingerie and definitely don't wait to be in a relationship before wearing lingerie. Besides, men may like to see you in leather and lace, but they will always LOVE to see you out of it even more.

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