In Case of Emergency...

On what was proving to be another typically blustery Northumbrian day, I awaited my seven year old nephew in the school yard (desperately hoping that I wasn't going to be mistaken for his mother - I would have been all of fourteen when he was born). It was while I was standing there willing myself younger and thinner, that my attention was caught by what appeared to be a faceless, trouserless pair of legs, that on further inspection emerged as a decidedly windswept mother.

Her comment as she hurtled past me was something along the lines of "Thank Christ I'm not wearing my old grey knickers with the frayed elastic!" - or at least that's what I translated it as - for before she could finish she disappeared once more under a froth of pink skirt hem, exposing what I deduced to be a very well chosen pair of Agent Provocateur smalls.

Which got me thinking - while it seems like a great idea to squeeze ourselves into some butt busting, stomach sucking, uplifting all-in-one; there could be nothing more mortifying than exposing your flesh coloured miracle worker in the unforgiving light of day.
I began frantically trying to remember which pants I'd grabbed from the drawer that morning, when it dawned on me - I put so much consideration into my outerwear (well, on the rare occasion that I can be bothered), and yet I consistently spend no time what-so-ever contemplating what lies beneath. What if I got hit by a bus? I would actually DIE if the Northumberland Fire Department had to whisk me off to A&E sporting my Christmas knickers.

Which is why I've currently set my sights on this newest offering from Myla -
Cost of one ridiculousy impractical set of underwear - £178
Smug satisfaction when your skirt blows over your head - priceless.