There’s something about wearing matching underwear that really makes us feel like we’ve got our lives together. We love the idea of wearing lacy, strappy, intricately-decorated undies, but we also don’t want to be constantly aware of our underwear because it’s prodding and scratching at our skin.
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I woke on Tuesday at 4am and could hardly breathe. I was sweating (and, post-menopausal that I am, I never sweat) and racked with worry. I grabbed my hair, put my head in my hands, and said out loud, ‘What am I doing? What was I thinking?’