Before you recoil and have thoughts of, “No way in hell,” just hear me out. I am a card carrying member of the underwear-wearing group. So that’s what I thought too. Until the other night, when on a whim, I decided not to wear any.
I slipped my dress on and buckled up my wedges and headed out the door. Halfway through dinner, sitting at a table with three other couples, I whispered to my husband, “I’m not wearing any underwear.” Eyebrows raised and a shit-eating grin on his face, he said, “Well, maybe we should skip dessert.”
That one little wardrobe omission added a sexual charge to our evening. It was like having a few hours of foreplay, which felt great. And when we got home, it was one less thing that I had to take off.
A few caveats for me: I can’t seeing going commando while wearing pants. Having a seam rub against my crotch just doesn’t sound like it would be comfortable, much less a turn on. And the dresses that I wear can’t be too short. I don’t want to Sharon Stone in “Basic Instinct” anyone. That’s not sexy. Unless only my husband sees it.
Not wearing a bra is another story. Nothing exciting, for me at least, about size 34 D post breastfeeding boobs hanging down around a 49 year-old woman’s chest. I like mine strapped in and up high.
Give being free and easy a try one night. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. And you’ll have less laundry to do.
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Image via Helga Weber/Flickr