Lingerie, not Valentines, and the markers of feminine security
I could lie and tell you in light of the impending Crown Jewel of Hallmark Holidays I replenished my lingerie drawer. I could. Yet, like a bad penny that always comes back, I'm too damned honest. I've been home a whopping three weeks (shocker, I know . . . hold your gasps, it won't be for much longer), and in that time an impressive list of to-dos has been done and an even more surmounting of stitching has been done. Last year, about to the day, I posted the first (of a few (or this one too)) diatribe on bra making. Then, there was the one post where my Mom and Dad (who apparently read things their daughter writes--who knew!) found out about my newest tattoos. Yea, that sports bra and top is like a feat of gravity in and of its own . . . though, the final frontier is a strapless. I heard a rumor of one being released this year, and let's just say if that happens I'm all about that. No lie. Anywho . . . L...