I tended to stick with certain fits or fabrics. Silk felt better against my skin, and lace went with so many of those Hanky Panky thongs I already owned. I even brought many of them to Victoria's Secret or H&M with me, just to find the right pairs.
I decided I'd allow myself to splurge on lingerie. Not all the time, but occasionally. When I wanted to treat myself, when I was feeling down, or if I bought a new dress that called for the type of strapless bra I just didn't own. (OK — that was always a nice excuse, and I still totally use it.)
To this day, my relationship with lingerie is unwavering. On days I feel sluggish or unsatisfied with my naked appearance in the mirror, because it's only natural to encounter such days from time to time, I depend on my matching sets. They're like my second skin. Somehow, they make my body feel firm, solid even. And if I'm sitting at my desk, and my strap slips down around my shoulder, pulling it up is a nice reminder that I'm wearing a little something sexy.
