The number one enemy of sex

Want the know what the number one enemy to having a great sex life is? This is going to sound simple, I know, but it’s a truth that everyone needs to hear. I made this unbelievable discovery a couple of years ago and it changed my life. It can change yours too, if you’ll just pay attention. It’s easy, quick, and can turn everything around in your bedroom. What is it, you ask?

White cotton underwear.

Before you start laughing, or tell me I’m an idiot, or think to yourself, This woman’s mental, or try to refute or belittle or argue, just let me make my case and I think you’ll see what I mean.

Three years ago, I wore a size 22. Today, I wear a six. Okay, sometimes an eight when there’s been pasta around, or it’s the holidays, or I just fell face-first into a carton of praline ice cream. But usually, I wear a six.

Anyway, it was hard work, very hard work. While I was going through this transformation, things were very hard. They were hard for me, trying to change my lifestyle, trying to stay on track, and they were also very hard on my bank account. You see, when you go through that many different sizes in eight months, you have to buy A LOT of clothes. Tons. So many, in fact, that I was packing pants off to consignment that had only been worn once or twice before they were too big for me. I went through a lot of stuff that year, and know what the worst was?

Underwear. I went through FIVE SIZES OF UNDERWEAR. Not kidding. I’d no sooner get a pack of panties broken in than they were too big and I had to start again. I kept Hanes in business. Oddly, too, my bra size changed, and in a weird way: I got smaller around, but the cups got bigger. Don’t ask; I have no idea. But that’s what happened. So I was buying, buying, buying.

What was I buying? Hanes cotton panties in the eight-pack. The same Vanity Fair bras that I’d always bought, just a little lace and nothing more. And one day I had a blinding flash of insight.

Why wasn’t I buying sexy underclothes? Why was I still hanging onto those cotton nightmares I’d worn when I didn’t feel well, was depressed, didn’t feel sexy, didn’t want sex or need sex or even think about sex? I was certainly feeling better about myself. Dropping the pounds and working out several times a week had alleviated the depression and made me look pretty damn good, but underneath it all, literally, I was still dressing like my grandma. So I decided to do something about it.

Yes, I know you already know, but the clerks at Victoria’s Secret now take notice when I walk in. I opened the drawer with my bras in it while my daughter was here and her eyes bugged out. Yes, that drawer is full. Yes, I know it looks like a box of 64 Crayolas. Yes, they’re fancy. (And before you say it, they DO make beautiful underclothes for big, beautiful girls. I’ve seen 3X panties and some very, very sexy teddies and such. Look for it; it’s out there.)

But, you know what? When I wear fancy underthings, I feel fancy too. Very fancy. And very, very sexy. I had no idea that would happen, but when I turn and look in the mirror and find myself there in something that’s pretty and shapely and fun, I feel better about myself.

Need I tell you what it does for my partner? Let’s just say the girls at VS see him almost as much as they see me. He likes it; he likes it a lot. And I love the reaction I get from him when I put on something new and exciting and he gets a gander at it. Yeah. After all these years, who knew a simple triangle of acetate nylon was so important to the libido?

And he’s not the only one. So let me just say this . . .

Guys, those baggy boxers? No. Just no. Take any cover model on any romance novel and put him in a pair of those baggy boxers. See what happens. You want readers to buy the books, not recoil in horror. I know some of those guys could wear ruffled rhumba panties and still look hot, but the baggy boxers aren’t on the agenda.

So when my honey decided he wanted to go sexy, he went to Kmart (of all places) and got some bikini briefs. That made me laugh. Does he look silly in them? Kinda. But also kinda hot. Even at the very least, he ditched the baggy boxers and got boxer briefs. Now those are hot. They show off everything – and I do mean everything – and still fit nicely and are comfortable. I especially like the black ones. And they’re not expensive. Even tighty whities are better than those baggy boxers.

Of course, I could get him some Andrew Christian underwear. If you haven’t seen those, well, you owe it to yourself to look them up. I thought about it, and then I thought better of it. I’m all for sexy.

But when it comes to most of the men I know, sometimes you can just go too far.