A story about how I have pride in my 'first-string' underwear, even though I haven't told anyone yet

Are you satisfied with all the underwear currently in your dresser?
Are you pouring love into every single pair?
And, are you proud of yourself for wearing those pairs?

Today, I would like to talk about that.

The theme is 'underwear,' but this is not a risqué story at all. My apologies.

First, before we dive into the main text, I would like to establish a common understanding with you all regarding the theme and the definitions of the terms I will be using today.

Now, onto the main topic.

In a past post, I wrote about the importance of facing one's true self by 'taking a full-body photo with a straight face every day while wearing only underwear'.

At that time, I had one major realization.

That was the 'underwear problem'.

While taking photos of myself every day, for some reason, the first thing that would jump out at me was not my face or my body shape, but my underwear.

Why? After thinking about it for a while, I suddenly realized.

For example, on days when I felt a bit down or days when I was busy and had no breathing room, I wondered if I had been choosing second-string underwear myself with the mindset of, 'Well, this is good enough for today.'

Underwear with stretched-out elastic and stretched-out fabric, which lowered my spirits. The fabric that had become familiar to my skin was comfortable to wear, and it certainly wasn't bad. However, by letting my stomach and hips be pampered with 'well, this is fine,' I realized that I might have been treating myself carelessly.

I checked inside my closet.
There, a clear 'hierarchy of underwear' existed.

Underwear unconsciously divided into 'first-string' and 'second-string.' Underwear that I predicted would soon be demoted to second-string, yet couldn't fully transition there, left hanging in the middle. Ace-level underwear placed carefully with a sachet, sleeping in the back.

Even though they were all underwear, I had divided them into tiers, created a ranking, and labeled myself as 'first-string' or 'second-string' based on which ones I wore. I realized thatI wasn't just sorting my underwear—I was confronted with this reality and could only quietly cast my eyes downward.

Wasn't I trying to make the choice to 'cherish myself'?
Wasn't I trying to stop 'treating myself poorly'?

The silent plea from the sight of the second-string underwear with frayed hems reflected on my smartphone screen pierced my heart.

Whether it's underwear, clothes, words, or human relationships,if you keep piling up 'second-string' choices like 'well, this is fine,'I feel like before you know it, your life itself becomes 'well, this is about as good as it gets.'

Of course, I am an average woman right in the middle of menopause.
I don't mean that you have to wear smooth, shiny, barely-there, flimsy, and skin-tight underwear every single day!

Seamless, tagless, soft to the touch without any itchiness. A light, line-free fit so comfortable you'll forget you're wearing them. A natural fit without elastic at the waist or hems. And, a wide range of reassuring sizes and a rich variety of colors...

That's right.

Underwear that makes my menopausal stomach, hips, and myself feel like 'first-string'.

That is Gunze.

Even for a single pair of underwear, I want to be able to choose and say, 'Yes, this one!'
Because I want to live my life as a first-string person.
Because I don't want to live a life where I settle for being second-string.

I want to be someone who can always say, 'This is what I want.'
Why shouldn't that start with a single pair of underwear?

I am always first-string underwear.

...Could this be used as a commercial for an underwear company?