The kind of person who wears nice underwear.

Meet Almost Me.

Today’s writing playlist: saudade, saudade by MARO.

I fantasize about being the kind of person who wears nice underwear. Matching underwear. The kind that always fits. The kind without holes or rips. Certainly not the kind that languishes at the back of your drawer until laundry day, when you’re suddenly left with no choice but to wear a thong that hasn’t fit you since college, the one that rolls down over your stomach and rides up your ass and leaves you feeling somehow worse than if you were wearing nothing at all, a constant, nagging pinch telling you that you could be doing so much better than this.

I fantasize about being the kind of person who opens their drawer and never has to digs past lingerie with the tags still on because they aren’t confident enough to wear it and mismatched socks that they should throw out but are keeping because the other sock will probably show up eventually, right? Probably. It has to be around here somewhere.

I fantasize about the person who opens thei…