@loripalminteriTweets by @loripalminteri
A Letter From Sexy Underwear
Wow. It’s been sometime. I’ve fallen to the bottom or your underwear and bra drawer, in your shitty Ikea dresser that you said was a temporary dresser some six years ago. Have you forgotten what I look like? Or how cute your little non-existent butt looks like in a see through lace?
You keep wearing the worn ones, favoring comfort over a sheer tease. Which I get. I get it. It’s a pandemic. You’re not dating. So I’m neglected. But must I be punished for the virus too? I understand you’d rather wear out the older undies that have little life left in them and save me for a better time or special person, but it’s been too long, Lori. Too long. Couldn’t you even post a thirst trap featuring me on your Instagram? Maybe it would drum up some followers. How’s working on “your brand” going? Are you starting a subscription for your art or do you prefer to starve?
Speaking of starved, how are my good friends in your “sins of the flesh” area? Boy, I miss them. Do they miss me? They don’t call. They don’t write. I’m stuck in here, next to this strapless bra that you never wear because it always falls down on you. Why are you even keeping it? Why not just throw it out?
I hear/tell rumors that you are clinging to an old violet purple Victoria Secret bra that is starting to tear. My, my Lori. I know you’ve been raised to waste not, but now you are living like we’re in the New Great Depression. Is it really that bad out there? Are you eating? I’m worried.
I overhear talks of your phone conversations how New York is over, headed to a cultural dark age, is dangerous and you wouldn’t be safe on a subway platform at night. What a thought. To never be worn under your skinny jeans again in New York City, the crowned sexiest city of all time. A reign over. How could this happen? Alas, I’m just cotton fabric and lace sewn together but I never thought the city would tear at the seams as easy as delicate panties.
Oh, how you loved the novelty of surprise that despite your particularly unflattering and even boyish clothes, when taken off, you’d have me with a matching bra. You’d be proud too. Usually so uncomfortable in your own skin, with the right person or right sexy underwear (me), you’d feel truly beautiful and desired. I want to be there for you! I want to make someone else go, “damn.” But more importantly, I want you to look in a mirror and go, “damn.”
I miss you. Don’t you understand that? When are we going to get out there, together, as a team. You don’t need me, I know, but I need you.
Your Sexy Underwear