Today’s Word Is Vulnerability

Vulnerability is a funny thing… A scary, exhilarating, funny thing.

I was thinking about this as I sat down and opened a Firefox tab to begin blogging here at A Slip of a Girl.

It’s not just that I feel a little rusty, having been away so long. But I have that embarrassed feeling of having shared too much. And it’s combined with having been accepted for it (or in spite of it). Giving me that giddy nervousness that’s where desperation meets exhilaration…

Like how you feel right after your first kiss and his head lowers to partake of a second…

Or how you feel after being away from your lover for too long…

Or, upon running into an old flame, giving him a second chance…

Or, most recently for me, how after after arguing with your husband and surviving a long stalemate, you come together in an intimate embrace and all the anger and hurt swirls with the love and need, and you kiss — a bit awkwardly at first, then find yourself in a passionate embrace and, as your knees turn to jelly, you pull away to giggle, hiding your face in his neck, because this time feels more overwhelming than any “first time” because it carries with it all the memories, expectations, desires, and even stronger physical and emotional needs.

If you’ve ever had any of those feelings you know what I mean and how I feel trying to pick up blogging again.

And all of this reminded me that these feelings are precisely why I love lingerie so much: Lingerie is the fashion and art of vulnerability.

It’s about showing and sharing (enough, but not too much), about physically feeling (for both the one wearing and the one seeing who longs to touch), and ultimately about the emotional feelings which result from all those things — amplified by memories, expectations, desires, and needs.

As one who thrills to wear lingerie, I know (and employ) the push and pull of lingerie that many ignore or dismiss as simple flirtation.

It’s more than hot peek a boo flashes of skin; it’s the cold fear of being seen.

It’s more than the tactile thrills and physical chills along your spine (and elsewhere!); it’s about the fingers and flesh that touch you, trailing here, there, everywhere, always working towards an invasion you want, but know is a risk.

It’s more than come hither mixed with, “Sit, stay, beg!” Even if your femininity is the ultimate in control, you will eventually, hopefully, lose control and submit to la petite mort.

When you slip into that lingerie, you are sliding into control — but also away from it…

You stand in those flimsy dainty bits, hoping, wishing, he’ll stay… And whatever comes of it (and you hope that’s both of you!), you lay afterwards, hoping, wishing he’ll still stay. That once he’s seen and had all of you, that he continues to like what he’s seen, continues to want what he had — to need you. All of you.

And every time he does, you tremble and quiver at the mere thought of it. And the lingerie you wore.

Photo of black lace bodice vintage nightgown via misstrixieloo.

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