Friday, April 07, 2006

Skeletons in my closet

I am the proud owner of 5 panties even my lola wouldn't wear.

It guarantees me a good night's sleep when I don't feel like playing adult games in bed.

It elicits an "ewww, don't you have anything sexier?" comment from hubby.

Two of them are ancient scraps of cloth with loose garters but no holes, thank god.

The other three are gigantic, black, post-maternity waist whittlers that flattens my bulge but hides all my curves.

I would never wear them outdoors (except maybe when I'm to lazy to change for the neighborhood grocery).

Most of my pajamas are at least 5 years old. They don't match, are not silky, and unlike my panties, they possess holes in places that rarely see the light of day.

My favorite pambahay is a blue tie-dyed number from Boracay, the side slit of which is higher than cheongsams of receptionists at dubious nightclubs. I think it's ready to disintegrate.

There. Now you know. My secret wardrobe is secret no more.

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