Have I forgotten how to buy knickers?

How would I best describe my knicker drawer?

Well the phrase  fifty shades of grey comes immediately to mind.

Trust me here when I say that there really is nothing remotely raunchy about it, it really is fifty shades of grey; from the older, darker grey through to the more modern up to date grey. It’s all a bit dreary and dismal in there to be honest.

When did this happen?  Judging by the differing shades of grey, over quite a long period of time.

When I was younger I loved fancy underwear. I would often treat myself to bras and pants of all shapes and colours, in fact the more colourful the better. I threw caution to the wind and there would be nothing remotely grey, in fact I rarely bought white. It was all entirely selfish too. I bought things for me, I loved wearing colourful underwear that felt nice. It was not for anyone else’s benefit.

Then I had children.

When I had the teen, I made a pact with myself that I would not end up in boring bras and not so nice knickers. Oh no, I would rebel and continue to wear my eye-catching undies. I was so naive. Little did I know that the large road-map like bosoms that had suddenly arrived, would never quite disappear. My bra size never quite recovered. As for the bottom half, well, let’s just say that after four pregnancies, there is more than enough padding down there to fill add a couple of numbers to my pre-pregnancy size.

I did keep all of my lovely undies for many years. They lurked hopefully for a while beneath the ever-growing pile of regulation sensible stuff and every now and then I would look wistfully at them and smile.

These days it is a more sober affair. Last weekend I went to London for a weekend for the Britmums Live blogging conference and of some unknown reason this sent me into a shopping frenzy. New outfit, new pyjamas, new undies were all on the list. The husband did raise an eyebrow when I said I was buying new undies, but I quickly reassured him that the conference was largely made up of women and that there were certainly no underhand motives for the purchase.

So I bought myself a couple of new tops and some pyjamas and headed to good old M&S for a browse. I even remembered to check my size before I had left so I was feeling mightily smug. Now it really can’t be that long since I went underwear shopping but I found myself in a vast space looking around in despair at all sorts of things with names I didn’t recognise. I felt overwhelmed and confused.

When it comes to bras, I know the difference between under-wired and not wired but did I want plunge, profile shaping, full cup, moulded, soft padded, multiway, minimiser, bandeau, cross over, t-shirt or memory foam. How the bloody hell do I know? Memory foam? I thought they were mattresses, not bras?

I took a deep breath and decided that I would pick some knickers first, that would be easier.

Not a chance.

Now when it comes to knickers, I like something comfy, not too grannyish and nothing too fancy ( I am in danger of sounding very middle aged there). It’s true though.  I like a comfortable pair of knickers.  Is there any thing wrong with that?

But alas, the knickers it would seem are even more difficult to choose than the bras!

High rose, low rise, midi, full, waist high, Brazilian, no VPL, bandeau, crossover, wrap and not only that you have to choose from shorts, briefs, knickers bikini knickers and thongs.  Thank goodness I could cross thongs off the list.  That is never happening in these parts.

I could see one of the shop assistants looking at me and not really wanting sympathy or to admit being overwhelmed by the underwear department, I quickly dived into a more familiar territory; girl’s clothing.  I found the rows of lovely girls’ clothes very calming and therapeutic and then I plucked up the courage to try again.

With some relief, I spotted the bras that I had bought last time and grabbed my size with a celebratory jig, overjoyed that they came in packs of two.  Boring?  Absolutely!  I care not, the ‘better the devil you know’ works well in these situations I find.  Buoyed by my bra finding success, I grabbed three pairs of knickers that seemed to tick all of my boxes (white, comfortable, not too grannyish) and jubilantly ran to the till.

When I got home and  looked through my rather boring white (soon to be grey no doubt) purchases, I did sigh a little at my inability to buy underwear. Maybe next time, I need to buy online.