When Did My Underpants Get So Big?

There I said it.

And now I will say this: “Dad, do yourself a favor and just move on to something else. You’ll thank me later. If you keep reading, your eyes will bleed and you’ll never be able to look at me again. Go away. Right now.”

I’ve been thinking about my blog contents for some time now. It was funny for a while, then I fell into my injury and it got all weird. I made a promise to myself that the next time I had a wacky thought I’d blog about it. Pity for you, it happened today while I was buying new underwear.

I feel I have to start by saying I wish that I wore panties. “Panties” just sounds cute, and small, and conjures visions of little bows or polka dots. Or “Sunday” “Monday” “Tuesday” … you know what I’m talking about.

I don’t wear these though. I have underwear. Nothing flashy. No crazy things in places where they don’t belong. No lacey, scratchy elastic. Just the old cotton normal kind. BO-RING, but comfy and breathable.

(Seriously, Dad, if you are still reading, this is your last chance to save yourself!)

So, I hop on over to the Hanes outlet to pick-up some new under things, and find myself having this weird, old-lady conversation in my head. “What the hell size do I even wear? Oh, those are too low and my belly will not be happy with that. I need the higher kind that will help keep everything flat in the front. No, too silky. They’ll just slide all around and eventually end up in my butt. Oh, that elastic is too scratchy. Nope, not a thong. No way, no how. That’s a crime against nature. Your under things don’t belong in there. Beside, I’ll just want to pick it out…” and then I stopped dead in my tracks. WHO THE HELL AM I?

I had to put on my glasses to read the sizes on the back. “Humph, size 7, really? COOL! 7 sounds small!”

Then I get them home and decide to throw everything in the laundry. You should have seen my eyes when I pulled the tape off the neatly folded package. THEY WERE SO BIG! MY GOD, 7 is HUGE. They reminded me of my grandmother’s underwear, not that I can even think of one time that I actually SAW my grandmother’s underwear. I wanted to see cute PANTIES! URGH.

My husband loves it when I wear sexy underwear. (That was for you, Dad. I TOLD YOU TO STOP READING!) LOL

Poor Chip. I can’t imagine that he feels that “special feeling” on the rare occasion that he finds himself folding laundry and happens upon my drawers. Should I buy some cute things and just leave them in the laundry for all eternity? Yeah, it’d make him smile, but then he’d expect me to wear them. Bad idea.

Anyway, I’m at that age where everything around me is reminding me of my age. I can’t even see anymore without my glasses. But how did I miss the transition to old lady underwear?

Pitiful.