I’m here to talk about underpants. No, not the fact that someone in this house is going through a phase of dropping trou for comedy purposes and “mooning” the rest of us (and it’s not me and it’s not BDH and it’s not the cats) — that is another story ENTIRELY. No, I’m talking about MY underwear.
And not even in a fun way.
Now, as you may recall, I had an unfortunate underpants-buying experience last year, wherein I went to buy underwear and picked up a package of plus-sized underwear instead of my regular size. NO NOT ON PURPOSE IT WAS A MISTAKE SHEESH. And as fate would have it, I did not realize it until I had opened the package and washed them and hung them on the line, only to find OMG GIANT UNDERPANTS OF DOOM. And thus, by virtue of their opened packaging, not to mention washing, I had rendered them unreturnable.
So there I was, proud owner of a stack of Granny Pants.
So, as I am CHEAP LIKE WHOA I thought I might as well get some use out of them. And they were fairly giant, I’ll have you know. Like, waistband-on-the-ribcage giant like Ed Grimley would wear. Like, if-I-were-a-castaway-I-could-use-them-as-a-sail-on-my-life-raft giant. But they were mostly okay, and on those days where sweat pants and comfort are in order, they worked passably well.
I’ve been exercising, you see, since the year began. Not tons, because of the Bad Knees. But some. And my shape is changing. And let me tell you, this makes a difference in Giant Underpants World.
Like yesterday, for example, when I got out of the shower and got dressed. I pulled on the Giant Drawers O’ Doom. And although I pulled them up to their usual height of, say, just below my armpits, I noticed that they didn’t pull ALL THE WAY UP.
The leg holes? Which should come to the part where your leg meets your butt and nether regions? Were not there.
They were an inch or two DOWN MY LEG.
So now, the Giant Underpants have somehow morphed into BLOOMERS.
I WAS WEARING BLOOMERS. BLUEPRINT BLUE COTTON BLOOMERS.
This is not a good look. Not for anyone. Certainly not on a middle aged woman. I may be cheap and frumpy and fat but I STILL HAVE STANDARDS. Low though they may be.
So I think the time has come to admit that new underwear are in order. New, properly fitting underwear. Possibly I can repurpose the giant ones into cycling shorts. Or hip waders. Or an inflatable life raft on a cruise ship. Or maybe fashion them into a bouncy castle for the neighbourhood children to use.
That could work.
It means I must spend money. ONLINE SHOPPING FTW! But I am cheap, so I’ll wait until there is a sale. And check this size before I open them.
PSA: LET THIS BE A WARNING TO ALL! CHECK THE PACKAGING CAREFULLY BEFORE OPENING NEW UNDERPANTS! DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!
And let’s not even have the discussion about how much I am needing new bras.