The Weekly Mindfuck: Lingerie

Image via josemanchado

The day I turned 13, my mom introduced a new rule. I suppose it wasn't a rule so much as a guideline, a practice I would need to reference in the future. My mom took it upon herself to introduce concepts like this when I was first forming my ideas about new experiences—because as we all know, it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks, even if that dog isn't old by most standards.

We went to Victoria's Secret (even middle schoolers need underwear), and she told me something I've never forgotten: "Never, ever wear underwear you find boring. Not because of what whoever you're dating will think, but because sex—when you're old enough—should be celebrated." 

Celebrate. This word alone encapsulated my late mom's legacy, but it's important to think about when we consider sex. Sex is pleasurable—duh. It's a driving force for many of us, but it tends to lose its luster without the appropriate effort. I personally have never thought about said "effort" as a physical thing (touch him more, make time for sex in the morning, sext him while he's at work) but as more of a fire; an intention to get the most out of life and express gratitude for your body and all the amazing things it can do and experience.

For me, lingerie is a part of this. A symptom of excitement for sex, a way to treat every day like it matters, like it's special. It's about finding joy and pleasure in small pockets where you didn't know it existed, a scavenger hunt for fulfillment, an intention—just like in yoga—that sets the tone for your experience. 

I think we often forget this notion. Sex isn't a math problem—it's not about foreplay + sensation + orgasm. It's a holistic experience that when approached as a celebration, rarely becomes boring. 

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