My entire life I’ve hand an obsession to swimsuits. As I grew older, my ongoing love affair with lingerie also emerged.
When I was tiny it didn’t matter that I was growing up in Montana, I wore a swimsuit every stinking day. In the summer it was my primary fashion piece. I was always ready for a surprise plunge into the icy waters of numerous lakes, rivers, or creeks. Possibly my neighbor or grandparent’s pools. My family used to joke that there wasn’t a waterway in Western Montana I hadn’t swam in. Winters were harder on me. My water ways froze over. Cold set in. Not just cold, bone chilling, almost numbing cold. However one thing never changed, I had my swimsuits on! They were under all my layers of clothing. Some kids have emotional ties to blankets; I had emotional ties to my swimsuits. They made me happy.
When I entered school my grandparents arranged for me to start taking ballet classes at a small studio in town. I have distant memories of crying when getting ready for class because I couldn’t understand I had to wear a leotard instead of my favorite swimsuit. I mean, they are fundamentally the same aren’t they? It seems silly now. After a few classes I quickly fell in love with ballet. For the rest of my early years if I didn’t have on my suit, I had on a leotard.
As I started to fill out, I began having entirely too much fun trying on and buying lingerie. When I was in middle school my cousin took a job working for Victoria’s Secret. She sent me some items for Christmas. I was instantly hooked!
In high school Victoria’s Secret came to my hometown mall! EEEEKKKK!!! I would have a steady stream of pretty things to look at, try on, an abundance of bras and panties to buy. I was literally on cloud 9. All my best friends knew a trip to the mall would end in a trip to look over the bras, smell the latest body wash, and debate what to add to my growing collection.
Right when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any better…. Victoria’s Secret started selling swimsuits! What the what?!
My grandmother ordered my first bikini from them. I waited in anticipation for it to arrive. A fantastic hot pink and white tie-dye piece. Triangle top with a bottom donning scrunchy sides. I’d never had anything quite like it. As silly as it may be, I drove her crazy. EVERY day after school I’d bust through her door asking where the mail was. I’d sort through, and in disappointment whine to her about the bikini not being there. She’d smile, shake her head, and change the subject to food. My other true love. This went on for a couple weeks; it felt like an eternity. Then one day, IT WAS THERE! Talk about absolute love at first sight.
At this point Victoria’s Secret, multiple swim companies, and several lingerie lines have benefited from my need to have more and more options available. I’m not happy if I go on a trip and don’t have at least 1 suit per day packed. I find new suits every year and buy them; I have been known to own an embarrassing amount of lingerie.
My husband benefited from my obsessions over these things. I’d place orders and excitedly wait for them to get here. With the development of technology the wait has gotten shorter and shorter. It’s been amazing! I’d model what came in. He’d enjoy it. One thing would lead to another. At least for a lot of years that was how that happened.
Over the years, with 4 pregnancies, my body has changed some. However, I’ve only gone from an extra small to a small in most things. Sure I’m not as toned as I’d like, or once was, but I’m still a size 2/4. All in all, not too shabby by most standards.
My obsession with lingerie and bikinis has continued. While family needs came first, of course, when I had the opportunity to feed my obsessions I have. It makes me feel like me. Something I’ve never been willing to do away with.
Last spring, in the midst of the worst treatment I’ve ever endured, I ordered a couple new sensible bras and a handful of fun/pretty panties. I was so excited to have some new things. With the move and all the cost associated with that I really had not done anything nice for myself. I was finally doing something for me.
I was exhausted from work when they came. Still, I hurried to open them. I looked through everything like a kid in a candy store. I was too tired to try them all on, but I knew they’d fit and set them aside. In came my husband. He wanted to see what came. So I held up each pair for him to see.
He became agitated on the 3rd or 4th pair of panties. His whole demeanor changed. Suddenly he was annoyed, super short with me. I was so confused. I went on showing him the rest and explaining I was too tired to try them on, but in the next day or so I’d get to it. I don’t think he heard me. He was too busy stewing over something.
“Aren’t you a little too old and fat to be wearing things like that? I mean, at what point do you start acting your age?” he blurted out.
Rage built up from my toes.
I fired back something like “I’ll wear anything I damn well please at any age I want!”. What like I’m 82? Even if I was shouldn’t he be happy I’m even trying to wear pretty or sexy things?! I couldn’t believe it. What the hell was his issue? He’d never had a problem with my collection before! He damn sure never had a problem with seeing me in my collection. It was in the last year or so that he really started ragging on my body. Who did he think he was? Let me tell you, that was no way to go about getting lucky. Not even close. My feelings were so hurt!
Fast Forward….
The Shattering happened and it all came together. Turns out he had spent several hundred dollars on Victoria’s Secret for his affair. Because, why would he spend that on his wife or working on the relationship he allowed to fall to shit with her? In those several hundred dollars, he had purchased her panties that I, unknowingly, had purchased for myself. He couldn’t possibly allow that to happen. He may get carried away and blow his own cover with a comment or action. So he cut me to pieces hoping to avoid that situation again. He couldn’t possibly admit to himself or anybody else what he was doing was wrong. He just couldn’t bare to see these panties on a slightly soft woman who’s had 4 kids instead of on a tight toned much younger girl he was cheating on me with. What an ass.
Here’s the thing I’ve come to realize. The sick and twisted narcissistic jackasses, like my soon to be ex, want their porn-tastic sex addiction fantasies to come true. If you don’t fit that mold they will put you away in a virtual box, to come out as needed (usually when you have something they need). They will use you when they need to look adult, or official in some capacity. Like a work function. They’ll dote on any socially acceptable positive quality you have in front of their boss, friends, whomever is around. So they can look like a good guy. On the ride home though, away from the crowd, they’ll tell you how embarrassing you were at the event, how your outfit wasn’t perfect, hair was sloppy, how you don’t socialize right, how you ruined their whole evening. how you’re looking old…. Yup, they’ve all happened to me.
Behind closed doors they are focused on discounting your feelings, degrading you, cutting fresh wounds daily to keep you under their control. Control is the box they store you in until you seem “useful” for something. The sad thing is, at a certain point, you start almost looking forward to the events when you get to escape your box prison. Events where you get to feel human again. Even if only for a short time.
I say break out of your box. Be human! Be useful to yourself, to your kids. Shred your abuser’s ability to control you. Be you, obsessions and all. Leave anybody whom doesn’t like it in the dust.
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