Collar and Cuffs

Don’t worry, I’m not about to ask you to prove you’re a natural blonde.  However, I will let you into one of my personal beliefs and it’s not that the children are our future (although alarmingly at some stage they will inevitably take over the so called free world as we know it) rather I find that if you get into the habit of matching your underwear thus ensuring your assets are routinely coordinated and encasing your feet in glorious technicolour, guarantees a little #SecretSmugness to your day.

Suddenly you may find you have the strength of Peter Parker post spider bite and you’re walking with the swag of She-ra #ByThePowerOfGreySkull

Granted, sometimes on the mornings where you wake up feeling as though you’ve done a month in solitary with Andy at Shawshank, the inclination to synchronise your smalls may elude you and like me, you’ll probably give Ace Ventura a run for his money in the ‘got dressed in the dark’ sweepstakes, but those dire times thankfully aren’t a constant and perversely make me more determined to put on my secret armour in a defiant middle finger salute to the gremlins.

You don’t need to break bad to kit yourself out either, for me nothing houses Bacardi and Coke better than Primark’s T-shirt bras; their lingerie is like baby bears porridge, not too big, not too tight just right.  There’s no need to possess the bank balance of Daddy Warbucks but as the saying goes, sometimes you’ve got to speculate to accumulate and a little outlay on yourself may prove an excellent long-term investment.  Set your budget and watch how suddenly, with a matching set and funky socks you feel like Trinity from the Matrix minus the PVC (even Johnsons couldn’t produce enough talc to squeeze my junk into that ensemble).

When it comes to socks I’m a bit like Joseph and his technicolour dream coat – the more colourful and wacky the better.  It’s not a new thing for me either, I’ve performed extensive research in the field, so I know it works.  My favourites are a pair littered with brussel spouts wearing Christmas hats which I had to buy from Tesco even though at the time I was on the hunt for pigs in blankets which transpired to be unsuccessful because they’d sold out.  I can’t help but attempt a moonwalk when I put them on even though I have two left feet and a flat foot (it’s not a winning combination for Strictly is it).  When I put the sprouts on, I feel ready to take over the world and a wicked Bond villain laugh escapes me before I have time to stifle it.  I think it’s because one of the entities rattling around my noggin is a very bitter, misunderstood sprout called Bruce who has a scathing hatred for celebrity chefs and their fondness for overusing words such as jus and coulis just to showboat, although we both agree that Ainsley Harriott is the exception to this prejudice, as any man who can handle an oversized pepper mill with such aplomb is ‘good people’ in our book.

On a more serious note I discovered recently I’m no longer a thong wearer.  The closest I get to those garments is on the odd occasion I happen to catch Sisqo playing on Heart’s Time Tunnel.  Sod VPL – after two children the only flossing I do is in-keeping with good dental hygiene.  I’m in my late 30s and would rather someone know I’m wearing underwear, I’m a not a monster people – the only time my goose pimpled flesh goes alfresco is beneath the sheets.  It was a sad moment however when I acknowledged this transition as I must have made the switch to belly warmers at a subconscious level, although the extra cotton works as a thermal layer in winter.  The only reason it was drawn to my immediate attention was when the other half bought me some underwear for Christmas and I swear to god, it was as though I had a permanent wedgie!  Honestly I was walking sideways like a crab with constipation.

It’s not about being a Victoria’s Secret model.  Although to give them their credit I’d struggle to walk in a perfectly straight line with that many eyes on me without going ass over tit (I’ve lost count of the times I’ve smacked my face because I’ve unwittingly hooked my dressing gown belt on the door handle as I’ve walked past!); it’s about getting into good habits of not needing to wait for a reason or event, to exercise a little ‘me’ time.

Treat yourself every day, give yourself and preferably someone worthy, something wonderful to unwrap and work that hot sauce in your swag bag!