Let’s have a little talk about underwear.
I am well aware that there is a million dollar industry out there involving women’s undergarments.
But in my mind (and on my privates), underwear is simply a boring necessity. I mean, nobody but me sees it! And yes, I know I’m revealing a bit more than might technically be necessary about my personal life there. Keep in mind that my husband is out of town six days out of seven.
I rate buying new undergarments right up there with buying a new roof (and I’m not referring to any properties related to keeping heat in or moisture out. Sheesh, why did your mind even go there?) Has to be done, but is absolutely the most boring way possible to spend money.
I had cause to at least slightly reconsider my position today, however. While walking out of the doctor’s office (after a breathing treatment, a bumped-up dosage of my daily steroid inhaler, and a script for an antibiotic), I experienced catastrophic underwear failure. As in my bra mysteriously and of its own free will suddenly came unhooked. Suddenly everything was flappin’ in the wind. And it wasn’t comfortable. Or pretty.
This terribly unpleasant event reminded me of the time I went to church in a dress, minus hose. Hey, it was summer and I had three small children in tow. I defy anyone to put on pantyhose under those conditions. I managed to sneak away for a moment for a bathroom break and got the surprise of my life when the waistband on my ancient underwear chose that moment to go to the big elastic graveyard in the sky. I suppose it could have been worse – my panties could have simply dropped off while I was walking down the aisle to communion. It was bad enough, though, in that I had to shove them into my purse, and I spent the remainder of the morning with the breeze blowing through my unprotected nether regions.
Today’s traitorous bra experience – even though the offending article is relatively new and one I like rather well – means a seriously uninteresting trip to a department store for a replacement.
Until the day my undies make me as interesting as this guy:
I’d almost rather shell out for a new roof.