While I have had a whole string of really awful days over the last while, on one of those days, to try and make myself feel better and cared for, I hit buy on the item that had been hanging around in my Etsy cart for three weeks.
I don’t just like vintage lingerie, I have a passion for vintage lingerie that is quite difficult to quench.
Were I to list a list of loves, on them would be lace and bows and most certainly pink and of all eras, the 1940s, this was all of them and so much more.
While I may be broke and struggling, what lingerie means to me, as nobody at home really sees it but the cat and a photo if I choose to share it online, and I have done a fair amount of that, is that it is a means of reclaiming my body for me. I have been in so many relationships with men where I was nothing more than their possession or, in the worst circumstances, like their object of oppression and substance to abuse. I lived that life for six miserable fucking years. I wish I could say that that was the beginning and the end of it but it isn’t.
I have had so many men treat me like absolute trash.
So, this is me treating me like a prize!