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It's Something We Need: A good dose of silliness,
By Sarah Overstreet
Newspaper Enterprise Association

I had a hundred other things I should have been doing. So what did I do? I did what any red-blooded American woman would do when faced with too much stress. I went to a lingerie party.

But first, I can hear skeptics who have never been to a lingerie party wondering what the attraction is. For those of you of either sex who have not attended a lingerie party, I'll give you the highlights, as I know them, having only been invited to women's lingerie parties:

Women sit around, talk about the man they love or would love to love, and their (women's that is) body idiosyncrasies. Big hips, small busts, hanging busts, hanging hips, underarm dingle dangle. They look at sexy clothes and get silly. They try on lingerie, and depending on the group and the beverage served, may or may not model them for each other and get even sillier

So what's attractive about a lingerie party? Well (a) no one talks about work; (b) no one talks about kids, unless someone needs an excuse for their stretch marks; and (c) no one talks about politics, world peace or what's happened to us since the 60's. For three madcap hours.

I'm on a roll now. The t-top on my old camero off, a cold diet pepsi in my hand, I step on the accelerator.

Not only do I need a lingerie party, I need several hours of Three Stooges movies, an afternoon with Erma Bombeck and a long session clipping recipes I'll never use out of old issues of Woman's Day I'll never read. I need to gather a circle of my friends and balance a spoon on my nose.

I need to be silly. Tomorrow I'll face my job, my bills and the darn dogs.

Tonight just give me a lingerie party and you can keep all your tranquilizers and high-blood pressure tablets. I don't care if the lingerie fits, or if anyone ever comes around to see it, if it does. I'll have already had my money's worth, long before the merchandise arrives.