It was 2001 and I was at this high-end shopping mall in Los Angeles called The Beverly Center. On the first floor was this really snooty lingerie store, the kind of place that only hires size two models.
"I'm getting married and I need something really slutty but classy." I said to the tall, anorexic, blonde, model/actress/retail whore for hire, wearing what looked like a black cocktail dress. She gave me a once over that made me feel like a Vegas showgirl who really should be retiring.
She rolled her eyes then glazed over my ultra curvy Jewess frame. I was already feeling self-conscious walking into the store because I'm a size 8 and when you live in L.A. that is considered obese. Plus, I'm not a tan blonde, I'm quite the opposite. I'm ass white with black hair. I was goth before it was in.
"Let me see if I can find anything to fit you," she said in a rather condescending tone as she flipped her luscious blonde hair and headed to the back of the store. I chose to ignore this "Pretty Woman" shopping moment and browse the racks of overpriced silk lingerie while I waited for future trophy wife to come back.
She emerged from the back with a white baby doll with a huge slit in the front and a matching white thong. It was this tulle fabric and silk. It was perfect. She put the baby doll into a dressing room and I tried it on. I stuffed my 34Gs into the top and they were barely covered but isn't that the point of honeymoon lingerie? I bought it even though it cost a pretty penny.
In late 2001, I married my then husband in my hometown of Boston on top of my parents' roof deck over-looking the Charles River. It was beautiful. I was so excited for our honeymoon.
The next day we flew to Monterey, California. We arrived in the afternoon and checked into our quaint boutique hotel. We took naps then went for a really romantic walk on the rocky ocean.
We then had a really lovely dinner at an Italian restaurant right near the hotel and on the ocean. The hostess greeted us newlyweds and we got such a great table. I kept looking over at my husband's platinum ring on his left hand. We laughed about our wacky relatives at the wedding and it was a blissful dinner.
We got back to our hotel room around 9:30 p.m. and he got into bed and read some of the paper. I reached into my suitcase and grabbed the white baby doll, hid it under my shirt and excitedly ran into the bathroom. In my haste to get this lingerie on, I forgot to take off the price tag.
I stuffed my boobs into the top of the baby doll, slipped into the thong and then fluffed up my hair. I took one last look in the mirror before I flung the door open, struck a sexy pose and pouted my lips. It was quite the entrance.
"You ready for this, baby?" I said with my eyes closed acting all coy. When I opened my eyes there he was, my new husband, completely asleep. My stomach dropped. It was humiliating and not at all what I thought a honeymoon should be. But I wasn't surprised. It's not like we had a lot of sex before getting married. He mostly recoiled from me when I touched him. I stupidly thought that by getting married maybe that would improve our non-existent sex life.
Cut to 2013 and I'm holding up this sad baby doll that lay scrunched up in my lingerie drawer with the price tag still on it. I decided not to pack it in with my things for my new apartment with my fiancé. I threw it in the trash, price tag and all. I had already paid the price for that marriage/divorce and was ready to start anew. On my honeymoon with my new husband I struck the same pose in the bathroom door in a black nighty to find an appreciative man wide awake and my lingerie was off.