And speaking of underwear...

Dear Victoria's Secret,

We've had a little chat before about these emails that you keep sending me about sales on underwear and things, and despite my best efforts to unsubscribe and relegate you to my SPAMbox, you have proven yourself a worthy adversary. Like some kind of email zombie, you keep coming back, clutching your saggy-ass bikini briefs (seriously, does anyone else have a problem with that?) and shaking them menacingly in my face, moaning "25% offff... 25% OFFFF! GRRAAAWRRR!"

I've given up on unsubscribing, because you'll just find a way to rise from the deleted-dead. It's fine. I just delete you now with barely a glance, until today, when you sent me an email with the subject line "What is Sexy?" and I felt compelled to respond to you. You did, after all, ask me a question.

Victoria, (can I call you Victoria?) we both know about my lingerie collecting. You've provided me with some excellent items over the years, and those leopard boyshorts are still in my top 5 favorite underwears. They look totally bitchin' with my hot pink hair. I thank you for those. However, we seem to differ on our definitions of "sexy" these days and I thought I'd take the time to explain why I have not shopped with you in some time, opting instead for things a bit pricier. (Agent Provocateur and I have become good friends.)

Here's a list of things that I think are sexy. Maybe if you could take these as suggestions when designing your next line, I would be more compelled to spend my money, as opposed to your incessant peddling of "I Love My Boyfriend" gear. (Not all of us lingerie aficionados are paired up, Vicky, [can I call you Vicky?] some of us just like to feel pretty underneath our jeans and tees.)

TAB's Sexy List:
*Chivalry and respect are sexy.
*Intelligence is sexy.
*Humor and laughter are sexy.
*Big, brown eyes are sexy.
*Creativity is sexy.
*A sense of adventure is sexy.
* These Guinness underwears are sexy. I need them.
That's it for me. I don't need anyone to buy me "I'm A Princess, Dammit" underwear. I don't need you to sell me skanky Santa outfits at 15% off, because WHAT THE HELL WOULD I DO WITH THAT?! I don't need you to sell me cleavage-boosting, squish-suppressing, can't-tell-it's-there garbage. Look, I've come to terms with my body type, and you probably should, too. It's kind of liberating. I don't need you to disguise my squishy parts, but maybe you could offer me something better to adorn them with. You know, less "I Love My Boyfriend" and more like, "I Like Camping" or "These Underpants Are Made With 100% Recycled Awesome" or maybe you could just sell me underwear with a matching cape, because that would save me the trouble of having to find a matching bath towel for when I want to run around in my skivvies like a half-naked superhero. And, when in doubt, go with black lace. A lady can never have enough black lace in her drawers. (ZING! SEE WHAT I DID THERE? Drawers?! Like storage places AND underwear?! You see that?!)

Feel free to use any of those suggestions, by the way. I'm trying to be helpful to you, Vicky. In the meantime, you can stop sending me emails. Or not. Whatever. This is my way of telling you I've moved on, but drop me a line if you feel that our ideas of "sexy" have meshed again.