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Last night I spent some time at the laundromat and while I had a magazine with me to read, I forgot to grab my notPod on the way out the door. For this reason, my mind was left to wander as I folded my laundry. I realized a few amusing things:
a. thongs can’t be folded, there isn’t enough fabric to do anything with;
b. there is no fully logical pile of garments to sort a dildo harness into, slipping it in with the bras will have to do.

However, the primary thing that I noticed is that my balance of sexy/cute panties versus boring/plain ones has decidedly shifted. When I started seeing my boyfriend, C, I owned exactly zero pairs of sexy/cute panties. Seriously. In fact, it never even occurred to me to get any – I didn’t think I was sexy or cute, why should my panties be? This means that I didn’t have a single pair that didn’t come in a 6-pack wrapped in plastic. The most daring deviation from this standard were a few pairs in pink.

The first time we fooled around, it suddenly struck me that I was wearing ridiculous panties for the occasion. I was embarrassed and apologized to C; he assured me that he didn’t care and I was dreadfully sexy. I wasn’t yet in a place to believe this. However, after that first weekend together was over I asked him if he would like me to buy some sexier underthings. He insisted that it wasn’t necessary but admit that it would be nice. Those first purchases were very tame and from JC Penny (no joke!) but he was transfixed by a particular pair of sheer backed, lacey, black briefs I chose. They are still his favorites out of my entire underwear collection. It is a comfort to think of all of the times that I have felt his hands caress my rear through that specific piece of thin material.

As I folded laundry, I kept the panties in discreet piles, dividing them between sexy and non-sexy. When I was done, the cute underwear won out by a landslide. I realized that the last time I purchased white cotton briefs was 10 months ago when I was preparing for a trip to Turkey and a new 12-pack seemed comforting and logical. The remaining pairs from that purchase seemed sad and weak compared to the tantalizing pile beside them. There were full-lace boy shorts and low cut briefs with various silly patterns (Superman, Hello Kitty, unicorns, butterflies, flowers – even a polka-dot pair that bears a striking resemblance to a Blogger template). And there were the new additions, the thongs, that I am getting increasingly comfortable with.

It seems silly to measure myself against the vibrancy and diversity of my panty drawer. Aside from being an incredibly consumer-oriented approach, can I really say that my sexual awakening is manifested through these eye-catching bits of fabric? Oddly enough, I think I can. In the past 6 months (roughly since the start of this blog) purchasing these sorts of panties has become a given, I don’t really consider the boring ones anymore. Additionally, I have stopped wholly considering my boyfriend when making the purchase. There was a time when I couldn’t wait for him to see new underthings when I got them – I guess I wanted his approval. Now I have come to a place where I certainly love showing them off to him but it doesn’t seem necessary. I can enjoy these pretty things for myself because I am comfortable in my own skin.

The first time C licked my pussy, he had to wrestle white granny panties out of the way for access. The most recent time, he slipped his fingers under the lacy waist band of a black thong and teased my clit with his tongue through the thin panel of sheer material covering my pussy. In the 3 years that have transpired between these two instances, it is clear to me that not just the panties have changed, but also the woman inside them.