Glamourous Night Attire

So, it's getting colder. Djamel suggested the other day that I should buy some pyjamas for bed, so I went off for the second trip, after my aborted one the other day, to commit to the crime.

Kate also needed to get out of the house, after two days of being cooped up due to the torrential rain. (They found the bodies of that family yesterday. Very very sad).
So off to Myer to try on some jarmies. The realisation after trying on the third pair was that the reason I always buy glamourous nighties is because I absolutely suck in pyjamas. I look less than dreadful. Or more dreadful than dreadful.
Or alternatively it was a reaction to those changeroom mirrors that highlight all the bumps in the wrong places. Someone has to tell that shop that investing in decent lighting will increase sales. Sheesh.
So I ran howling out of Myers. Well I didn't, but I feel I should have. What they had on sale there was old fashioned and frumpy - or not designed for the "more mature figure" - whatever it didn't work for me.
Then saved! A keen sales assistant at Bras and Things sorted me out with two very slinky numbers. I went in there and said "I want something for bed that doesn't look disgusting," and she went straight for the numbers that worked. Good on her.
So I came home and showed D. He liked em but said I didn't need to be fussy for bed.
(Oh yes I do).

Then of course I tried on my old glamourous nighties, to discover that they do fit, after all. There's something about how a woman feels after giving birth. I feel like an elephant at the moment, but really I'm not too different in shape than before. What with being poked and prodded and having every conceivable oriface violated, then afterwards with breastfeeding, sometimes you feel that your body belongs to everyone else. You're just the tiny little soul that rests within this fleshy cage - there's no "personal" or "private" or "modesty" any more.