Every year, I subject myself to a round of pre-Christmas movie watching. I am not entirely sure why. It’s sure beats Christmas music! I’m an atheist but there is something nostalgic about watching certain Christmas movies, like It’s a Wonderful Life or (don’t judge me, I can’t even explain it) The Santa Clause. I do draw the line at Elf, because while Will Ferrell might actually be an exemplary actor and terrific guy, something about his face bothers me and I can’t spend 1 hour and 37 minutes looking at it. I am sorry, Will, if you are reading this.
Grief and the festive season, what a combination.
This time of year is full of tinsel, food and celebrations. Work parties, family get-togethers, catching up with friends. Add in the seemingly endless trips to the shops and it’s easy for anyone to feel a bit overwhelmed. But what if festive is the last thing you’re feeling right now? What if, instead of excited and happy, planning your holidays or stocking up for a party, you’re riding a tidal wave of shock and grief and loss?
Friend, I have been there and it sucks.
It’s the most wonderful time of the year…..
It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? When you’re a kid, it’s pretty spectacular. Chocolate, lollies and snacks at every turn. Gifts from mum, dad, all your aunties and uncles and from some total stranger who breaks into your house to leave them every December 24th. As you get older, the magic is still there, if you want it to be. But no matter how hard you hit the Bublé , baubles and bubbly, there’s still one looming monster that requires your attention. It’s where a Christmas gift guide can come in kinda handy, so, you’re welcome!
Everyone has their kinks, their turn-ons, that thing that sets their motor running in some way. Feet, latex, BDSM, role play- you name it and someone is probably into it.
An underwear fetish of some sort is probably one of the more common not-so-guilty pleasures. Seeing people wearing it, wearing it yourself (the fancy kind, I imagine, not your sensible knickers reserved for periods) or, for some, touching it. To each their own, right? No judgement here. Except for the person that once stole my fancy, expensive satin knickers off the washing line. That was many moons ago and they were a scant bit of shimmer that left nothing to the imagination. Now that I think about it, they could have just blown away in a gust of wind. If someone took it upon themselves to pinch them off the line, however, I am judging. Just on the stealing, just so we are clear. I don’t blame them for liking the teensy pants. They were HAWT. But, I digress.
The other common underwear fetish is going completely without them. Freeballing, for those with a certain anatomy. No knickers at all, for the rest of us.