Covetworthy

Earlier this year, I had to end my relationship…with television. After making sweet love to my Tivo all winter, I decided to break it off with my remote and go back to the books. I went literal, literally.

I have been an avid reader all my life, but for too long saying those words was cowpie. Living in NYC, I exhibited all the symptoms of a real reader – my four room apartment had but one television, on which I watched Seinfeld and the occasional rented video. I finished a book a week MINIMUM and frequented lit lovefests. Now my home has two more TVs than bedrooms, all but one have DVRs and my two-year-old can wield the remote with the best of ‘em. It’s just wrong.

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With my pre-baby body blissfully within reach, I am loving all these Mad Men getups. Body conscious dresses and high waisted skirts in wonderfully tactile fabrics. Professional in the front, splah-DOW from behind. It’s fabulous. But what’s really got my tweeds in a twitter is what’s underneath.

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I have a little secret. I design women’s lingerie (www.lavande-swk.com) and yet my own top drawer has been woefully abandoned. My unmentionables have become just that. Not. Worth. Mentioning.

Admittedly, this isn’t something that’s important to most. Some people live by a mission statement. Or it might be crucial to make a final statement. For me, it’s all about the Understatement. (And right about now, mine is the sound of crickets chirping in overgrown fields.)

I never thought this would happen. But two babies in two years can wreak serious havoc on a girl’s mojo, ya know? So now, bottoms bounce around with no tops. Once-doted-upon lace frillies (pre-bump) nestle next to well-worn Hanky Pankys (mid-bump.) Spanx sidle up to Agent Provocateur. We recently had a weekend away from the kids and, whereas I used to plan my vacation boudoir ensembles in advance, this time I just stashed a couple fresh pairs in the bag and prayed that this would be a lights-off situation. Pathetic.

What I know is that keeping a tight lingerie wardrobe requires maintenance. (Just like missing a few days at the gym won’t hurt, but skip a year and see what happens to your ass. No, seriously, go to a mirror and look at your ass.)

So I’m airing the proverbial dirty drawers to make this promise: I am heretofore undergoing an aggressive underwear overhaul.

1. I PLEDGE to purge – anything that doesn’t inspire has got to go.
2. I PLEDGE to buy things that match. Seems redundant but some things just must be said. (And THAT goes without saying.)
3. I PLEDGE not to make purchases from catalogs – that’s cheating. I will summon up the ovarios to walk into a lingerie department or boutique, and engage the services of a sales chick to fetch what I need, regardless if she’s enviably fit or heartbreakingly geriatric.

And finally…,
4. I PLEDGE to wear everything that I buy. No saving and no second-guessing.

Stay tuned for the updates, uploads and the uplifting…