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Something Borrowed, Something Roo: A Day With Katie · Rock n Roll Bride

By A Mystery Man Writer

Allow me to start this post with a short disclaimer: this post is shameless. This post includes mentions of boobs, bottoms, and other jiggly bits. In this post, you’re going to see me in my undercrackers. This is a sight that few have dared to peek at – similarly; it’s a sight that I don’t dish out very easily. Like most women, there are bits of my body that I dislike for a myriad of silly reasons ("they’re too small!" – "it’s too big!" – "but that scar is so unsightly" – "overdue for a wax, much?"). For all of these reasons, and many more, I was beyond terrified at the idea of baring all at my first 'public' underwear fitting. The only other time I've ever let a professional handle my bits and bobs* was way back in my mid-teens, when I found myself crying in the middle of Marks & Spencer's lingerie section because I couldn't find a bra to fit my silly diddy boobs. My mum promptly marched me into a cubicle with a lovely member of staff who measured me properly, and I walked away with two beautiful new sets of underwear, and a whole load of new-found self-confidence. Such an ego boost! On the tube to Ladbroke Grove, I had a cheeky spritz of deodorant and tried to harness the emotions of that previous positive experience – hopeful that this one would be just as good, if not better.