From Hotty Po-Totty to Granny Panty

Cute shoes, comfy panties, zero apologies.

Once upon a time…

life was all about the look. Having the latest trends, the cutest outfits, and apparently being willing to endure mild torture in the name of fashion.

I’m pretty sure some of these contraptions were originally designed for medieval punishment.

Like, who makes a jumpsuit with four ba-gillion buttons down the front? Or a dress with a built-in bra that exposes everything because it requires you to be completely disrobed just to go to the bathroom?

I cannot imagine a woman designed these things.

Because every woman knows that when you’re going out, public bathrooms come with questionable levels of cleanliness, the lines are long, time is short, and once you break the beer seal, you’ll be making that trip more often than you’d like.

Which makes that adorable outfit a terrible choice for a night out.

But you know you’re going to wear it anyway because you’ll get a hundred compliments.

We wear uncomfortable bras and dental-floss thongs and have somehow agreed to call them underwear because apparently that is the respectable price we pay for avoiding panty lines.

Heels and pantyhose were a whole thing back in the day, although at this point, I honestly can’t remember the last time I even saw a pair of pantyhose in a store.

But I think the shoes really say it all.

Over the years, we have managed to put wedges and heels on everything from flip-flops to western boots, ensuring that no style is safe from being accompanied by some kind of incline.

Then there are the short skirts and the sexy, perfectly matched lingerie-style pajamas carefully selected for whatever hunk-a-burning-love might be lucky enough to see us wearing them.

People have said for years that women really dress to impress other women, even when our original intention is to look good for our own man.

And there might be some truth to that.

Because most men could not care less about our latest hairstyle trend, whether our outfit is made from this season’s hottest lamé fabric, or whether the retro sneakers on our feet are suddenly cool again.

Meanwhile, we notice every last detail.

And somewhere along the way, we start to wonder who exactly we were putting ourselves through all of this for.

The changes are slow and evolutionary. Then one day you wake up, open your underwear drawer, and realize it is full of mid-rise briefs with enough fabric in one pair to make two thongs.

When exactly did that happen?

I went out of town for the weekend with my bestie, and in true girl fashion, we planned to sit on my bed to catch up on everything we had missed since our last visit.

As I was turning back the covers, I caught her out of the corner of my eye, strutting down the hallway toward me in a pajama set whose only redeeming quality was comfort.

I started laughing so hard I could barely stand up.

Giggling uncontrollably like a teenager, I finally managed to say,

“Ma’am, where exactly do you think you’re going in that? Bridgerton called. They want their knickers back.”

Knickers. Bloomers. Pantaloons.

Whatever fancy name you want to give them, they were the granny panties of pajamas.

I’m pretty sure the only thing that outfit inspired her husband to do was sleep.

And that, my friends, is when you know you have officially changed lanes.

So, if there is ever any doubt about which lane you’re traveling in, your underwear drawer is probably a dead giveaway.

My mom passed away at fifty, and by then she was already wearing jeans with elastic waistbands. And honestly, I’m not sure women of her generation ever wore anything other than full-coverage briefs and bras sturdy enough to survive a natural disaster.

That was just her zone.

Although, there may be another factor at play here.

Women of her generation often married younger and stayed married longer. When you have spent decades being somebody’s wife, raising children, working, keeping a household running and taking care of everybody else, I think something slowly shifts.

It isn’t necessarily that you stop caring about what you look like.

You just stop thinking about it quite so much.

Comfort wins.

Gen X has traveled a slightly different road. Plenty of us have found ourselves single again somewhere along the way and I have a theory that being single has a way of keeping at least one foot planted on Hotty Po-Totty Lane.

Sometimes you suddenly find yourself single again, whether through divorce, widowhood or simply life taking a turn you never expected. Maybe the kids leave home and you find yourself empty nesting. Whatever the reason, something wakes back up.

Maybe you start doing your nails again.

Maybe you spend a little more time on your hair, put on makeup when you could easily leave the house without it, buy the cute jeans instead of the practical ones, or decide the elastic waistband has gotten entirely too comfortable.

And it isn’t necessarily because you are expecting some man to see what is underneath them.

There is just something about being single again—or simply entering a new season of life—that makes you look in the mirror a little differently.

You remember that before you were somebody’s wife, somebody’s mom, somebody’s everything-to-everybody-else…you were a woman.

And apparently, she still likes cute shoes.

I am all of those things.

I am single. I am empty nesting. And I am in a season of rediscovering what brings me joy, what makes me feel pretty, what gives me confidence and what keeps me comfortable.

Some days, I am wrapped up in a chenille blanket wearing yoga pants, a T-shirt and undergarments chosen solely for their ability to keep me happy.

Other days, I am dressed up in a pretty matching set and cute shoes—just a much more comfortable version of the ones I would have worn years ago.

Because I realized I don’t have to choose one lane.

I can love comfort and still want to feel pretty.

I can wear the cute shoes and still come home early.

I can appreciate a matching lingerie set and also deeply respect a good pair of full-coverage panties.

For me, I am happily straddling the fence between Hotty Po-Totty Lane and Granny Panty Boulevard.

And you know what?

I love every bit of it.

Magnolias find your place.

Create a space that makes you feel pretty, brings you joy, gives you confidence and lets you be comfortable in your own skin.

Whatever lane you’re in, own it.

And enjoy the ride.

Bless Your Heart,

Magnolia Grace