Newly single Rosie Green faces her underwear drawer

Rosie in skirt

I’ve got underwear older than Billie Eilish. Pants that have been in circulation since before Instagram was a thing.

Truth is I’ve always been more about the outside than what’s underneath…

When I was seventeen I used to go out clubbing in a Wonderbra covered only by a sheer body. Sexy. Except I was wearing Snoopy knickers under my hot pants.

Go figure.

I wore those Snoopy pants in my first term at university till my friend F staged an intervention. She marched me to M&S and bought me some black lacy bra and knicker sets.

I lived my best underwear life on my honeymoon. Just before I got married I went to a La Perla event and they were giving out £100 vouchers. (This was the noughties – high times.). I was sitting at a table with 10 beauty editor friends. They all gave me theirs. IK to drop! I walked into the store and felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I bought beautiful impractical lace sets that offered zero support. Obvs.

But now they have died.

And in their place? A lot of sensible boy shorts and t-shirt bras. About as sexy as Ann Widdecome.

Oh I have still got Agent P ribbon tied silk knickers languishing in my drawer somewhere, but the truth is the bows ruin the line of any clothing. And anything too overtly sexy is mortifying. To me anyway.

There are some thongs too – but thank THANK GOD they died a sartorial death. Who could look good in them apart from Gisele?

Now as I am newly single I feel I better revamp my underwear and take a good look at my assets.

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Last week my friend L told me about M&S ‘two size bigger’ bras – which I think, if worn on a date, might be construed as false advertising by the ASA. I buy two.

I also decide to get measured by a woman in the lingerie department at John Lewis. She tells me I’m a 30 D – which I find quite frankly ridiculous. D is surely for Selma Heyak or Sofia Vergara or similar, but she says it’s related to your back size. (The same woman told my friend J she had different sized boobs which was information she did not want to hear).

I was then presented with a multitude of bras that looked like they should be worn by a retired librarian and were so tight that they gave me back fat overhang.

So I smiled politely, declined, then went out and bought some 32 C’s that were pretty without being porny, sexy without being slutty.

And yes, 100% Snoopy free…

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