Sexy Envelopes

March 8, 2011 at 8:54 am | Posted in Around Boston, Married Life | 2 Comments
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A few weeks ago an awkward delivery guy brought me a 9″ x 11″ (padded) envelope.

“Ma’am, ummm, this is, ummm, for you…” He said, as he gingerly handed the parcel to me with a sheepish grin, lack of eye contact, and borderline creepy chuckle.

I took the envelope and thanked him, but he just stood there, almost like he wanted to ask me something. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No… I, ummm… sorry,” he said as he finally turned to go, after sneaking a second look at my “personality.”

I closed the door, threw the envelope on the counter, and continued whatever I was doing at the time (probably cleaning – our apartment feels like it is in a constant state of disarray these days).

Later that night, Andrew noticed the envelope – and by that I mean that when he inquired if I had ordered something “in particular,” he looked a little… intrigued… But again, I was far too busy to pay attention, and I assumed his look implied that he thought I was spending money frivolously, or that I was involved in some sort of questionable tomfoolery (because let’s be honest: when is my tomfoolery not questionable?).

Well, the day before we left for Costa Rica, I finally went to open the envelope and realized what all the fuss was about: the return address was a company called “In the Mood Intimates.”  The delivery fella was probably using his imagination to figure out what I might have ordered, and Andrew was probably wondering if I was planning ahead for our honeymoon (which we haven’t even scheduled yet! The reign of the “bad bride” continues).

Well, dear reader(s), my life is an open book to you, and I have no shame  very little shame, so if you’re as curious as that delivery guy and want in on my dirty little secret, here goes…

I ordered a new pair of Spanx for my brother’s wedding extravaganza. My dress for “white night” (imagine P. Diddy as a Yid and you’ll get the idea) felt a little snug, so I turned to the gods of faux-svelte-ness for help. The envelope had an unabashedly unsexy pair of Spanx – and that’s as intimate as a gal can get, if you ask me!

While I wasn’t sorry to disappoint the creepy delivery guy, and I am pleased to say that I didn’t spend any frivolous cash (gentlemen, a piece of advice: never question financial expenditures related to Spanx – no good can come of that discussion! You WILL accidentally call your lady a porker and be in gigantic trouble), I’m most pleased to report that my white outfit zipped… eventually 😉

~Sarah

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