09 December, 2003

Belle du Jour

The sun is bright, my mood is chipper, I have more housework than I care to contemplate, and yet here I go, nosing around a very literate prostitute's blogspot. And from that site, this:

mardi, novembre 18
There are work knickers, and there are Boyfriend knickers, and never the twain shall meet.

Work knickers, I've learnt from experience, should be big. Not big white undies as such, but for some reason punters prefer metres of lace to bare flesh. Remember this picture of Liz Hurley that fuelled a thousand fantasies? Other pics from the same set show my favourite star-who-isn't-a-working-girl-but-should-be in far less clothing, but the black knickered, hold-up'ped Liz is the one that sticks. Call it the power of the tease. Call it the logic of the hourly rate: the more there is to take off, the better value they think they've had. Whatever. So work gets big lacy pants like these.

Boyfriend knickers on the other hand tend to be small. Thongs. Take it off with your teeth-type stuff. Sporty, functional, but cheek and lots of it. Covering less area than a swimsuit, not more. Gap is a favourite here.

Work knickers and boyfriend knickers don't even share geography - they occupy different drawers altogether.

There is, of course, the third, unspoken category, and that is Laundry Day knickers. These are usually of the solid cotton, 'sold in packs of three at M&S' variety. But shh, I wouldn't want to disappoint anyone.

// posted by belle @ 10:00 AM

Having neither work nor boyfriend, I wonder how to explain my lack of Laundry Day panties. Still, Hawk gets a kick out of bragging to his brothers-in-law about my undergarments. Apparantly, his sisters are way off the deep end into Granny Panties. Sheesh. Some women know NOTHING about men.

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