Decisions, decisions

Dear Internet,

I had an existential crisis in the underwear aisle at Target last night.

Yes, the underwear aisle for those of you who know me well.  For those of you who don't-on any given day there's about a 70% chance I'm not wearing underwear.  What?  This is a blog.  Over sharing and inappropriateness is its raison d'etre.

But back to my crisis.  As I stood and looked at all the choices, I was overwhelmed.  Cotton.  Lace.  Boyshorts.  Thongs.  Too much.  Too little.  Even Goldilocks would have had a hard time figuring out which $5.99 pair was just right.

Part of me is tiny black french whore of a thong.  While another part is most definitely polka dotted cotton brief.  So how do you decide?  In world of so many choices which woman am I?

It's a question I ask myself a lot these days as I'm on the eve of a major transition.  Everything has become an exercise in dichotomous thinking.  Grocery shopping.  Full fat pizza or gluten free, free range, organic lentil soup?  Deciding on jobs.  Over worked career woman or stay at home mom? Putting on my face.  Au natural or painted red lips?  Getting dressed.  Jeans and t-shirt or skirts and fuck me pumps? Dating.  Long term or one night stand? Deciding where to live.  Old country home or apartment in the city?

I get stuck sometimes because I love all those things.  I do yoga religiously but often have one too many glasses of wine.  I own Manolos and Toms.  Cotton and lace.  I contradict myself.  I am large, I contain multitudes. 

So deciding which one is just right is hard because I want it all.  Want them all.  Want a life big enough to hold eating a whole tub of Ben and Jerry's while watching chick flicks in boyshorts.  And eating five star meals in a designer dress, killer heels, and a black thong.

Last night, I bought both pairs of underwear.  I figure I'll decide as I go.

Right now?  I'm not wearing either pair.

I'm hoping one day I'll find someone who adores this about me.  Not just my lack of underwear but my love of so many different things.

For the time being, I appreciate my wonderful friends who laugh and roll their eyes as I stammer out my opus on underwear in the middle of Target's aisles (I'm looking at you, B).  And I'm thankful for you Internet, you're always so good at letting me tell you my most private of things.

Love you all,
Sara