I’m not really one for making New Year’s Resolutions. When asked last week what my resolutions were for the upcoming year, my answer was fairly typical: “less murder”. It’s a noble goal, to be sure – I don’t have access to a crawl space anymore – but certainly not along the lines of expected answers like “lose weight” “save orphans” “eat broccoli”. Making New Year’s Resolutions just seems like you’re setting yourself up for failure, and I fail at enough things on a daily basis that asking for MORE just seems stupid.

That being said, I have decided on something that could definitely be mistaken for a resolution instead of what it really is: a pact. Or a goal. Or something that I will do with steadfast determination; a promise. Maybe a declaration of intent, but NOT a resolution. That’s totally different, see?

Okay, enough preamble – here is my non-resolution:

Every day will be fancy bra day.

That’s it.

When I was putting away my new bras – each fancier than the last – I realized that I have a disproportionate number of fabulous intimates that never see the light of day because I save them for “special occasions”. If I had as many special occasions as I do fancy bras, I would never have time to sleep. Why should my spectacular rack be swathed in boring just because it’s Tuesday? Enough hording – it’s time to bring out the lacy, the ribboned, the peek-a-boo and the complicated. Every day can and should be a Special Occasion; not just those times when my schedule deviates from the norm. Breakfast with the gang? Wearing sweatpants and a hat? Underneath it all will be something elaborate and gorgeous, I promise.

This plan would be better if only I had matching underpants to go with my all my lovely brassieres – as it stands, I am wearing a fancy blue lacy thing with a pair of men’s Spider Man underwear. That being said, if I had known how comfortable men’s underwear was, I would have bought the Superman and Batman ones too. These are awesome!

Life is too short to wear boring underthings.