C is for …

Last night at dinner, while other families were conversing about art and politics, my family and I were discussing our favorite letters. And like many other Sesame Street topics of conversation, it was polarizing. My daughters and I all (of course) chose the first letters of our names as our favorites. Mine being C. But just because C is for Christy doesn’t mean I’m biased solely because of THAT.

Continue reading “C is for …”

Playing favorites.

I try very hard in my daily existence NOT to play favorites, but sometimes even I cannot help it. Each morning as I rise from bed I vow NOT TODAY. but by the time I am dressed I have succumbed. I am not talking about my children, people. I am talking about my underpants.

Each morning I pull open the drawer and eyeball the selection. I look for my favorites first. The cute patterned ones w/ the low rise. The ones which fit but aren’t tight. The ones which make me feel HAPPY and yet do not ride up my nether regions or shuffle down my hips to my feet. I push the Jockey cotton ones away unless it is that time of the month. In an emergency I reach for the Hanes briefs. They always fit, though they are boring. But sometimes you don’t have time to ponder your panties. The Warner’s Bright Stripes I inherited from my mommy take up the rest of the drawer. Yes I do have hand-me-down underwear and they are ginormous. I call them my “SPANKIE PANTS” b/c they remind me of the underwear I used to wear as a kid. Big hefty things which come up to (nearly) my chest. Which wear like iron and will last until I am well into my 80s I am sure. I wear them only when I will be donning a skirt or dress which comes up to my natural waist. Otherwise the underwear hangs out over the top of my clothing and it looks really weird.

Underwear — that secret layer of protection against the world, sometimes all that stands between you and that great chasm of darkness. Underwear — the great unifier. Worldwide, we all go through a similar routine. And each one of us (not going commando) must come to that crucial decision. WHICH PAIR SHALL I WEAR?

Choosing the right pair of underwear is IMPORTANT. Even though no one else sees them, they are the closest thing to your private parts, and your performance throughout the day will be impacted by them. If you are wearing tight, shifty, bunchy, scrunchy and/or droopy drawers, you will – without fail – be thinking more of them than anything else. To the point that you may even excuse yourself to the restroom to remove said garment – thus rendering us ALL AT RISK. Face it. UNDERWEAR MATTERS. Your level of personal comfort and peace of mind is directly correlated as much w/ your choice of clothing & footwear as it is to the undergarments hiding beneath.

And yet no one ever talks about their underwear. At least not in polite company. Even when you get to work and that great big wedgie of dissatisfaction is building up so badly you want to scream EGADS! THESE PANTIES IS MAKING ME CRAZY!!!! You are left alone w/ your private torture. Like when I wear the high-riding blue underwear I got married in – even though they do not fit comfortably and I should have known better. Or one of the 12 thongs I own which act as slingshots, since each of them is a size too big. That striped pair of boy shorts which covers the barest wisp of booty, leaving me w/ perpetual plumbers crack. Or those green ones which say sz 6 but we both know are LYING.

I have 2 dozen pairs of ill-fitting underpants which will simply never work. And yet, I cannot bear to part with them. Routinely I cull through the herd I call my wardrobe and send the castoffs to the thrift shoppe. Why is it so easy for me to part with unnamed pairs of pants, tops which no longer look good, and yet I feel guilty getting rid of the umpteen pairs of underpants which routinely sit, unworn, at the back of my underwear drawer?? I shuffle them from side to side every single day, brushing past them in my reach for the CHOSEN ONES, and yet, I do not part w/ them. WHY?? B/c I feel GUILTY. Terribly, terribly guilty. People somewhere would trade their eyetooth for that pair of red lacy Victoria’s Secrets which itch and plague me so. When other people can’t even afford new clothes, how could I be so callous as to toss perfectly good underwear? Throwing away something like that – well, That’s just plain WRONG.

BUT What can you do w/ underwear you do not want to wear? It’s not like I can offer it to a friend. Or neighbor. I am moderator of West Philly Freecycle, and yet, the idea of posting an OFFER of my used undies makes me shudder. I am reluctant to send them to the thrift shoppe, b/c even though I have bought used towels there, there are simply some things I do not think they should sell. I could set up some sort of business selling them on eBay but frankly even I have my limits. And so they remain. Tucked away in the drawer for goodness knows how long. Feeling cruelly rejected each time they get the morning diss. Waiting. for that last cold shove into the garbage bag.