It was ridiculous, but the final straw that broke my back was when I shoved my panties down twenty minutes later to pee for the first time in eight hours. I was sitting on the toilet staring down at my frumpy cotton panties and I realized I didn’t own a pair in any color other than beige. And that I had no real lingerie. No fun clothes anymore. No heels I could wear out. No friends to go out with. My cheap, tattered underwear was a perfect metaphor of my entire life. Pale, insignificant, an afterthought—something uninspiring and sad and practical. With a pang, I realized I wanted…well, more.
