Get in touch with your inner undies
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
“I cleaned my drawers today!” I told Husband-Head proudly while we ate dinner. “I’m so proud of myself because they needed to be cleaned for a long time.”
Husband-Head had a rather horrified look on his face, put down his fork and placed his hands over his ears.
“La-la-la-la-la! I can’t hear you!,” he said in a sing-song voice. “And I don’t really care to know what you do with your underwear ” especially while I’m eating!”
But I wasn’t talking about my “underwear.” I was talking about the drawer that contains my undergarments ” my “unmentionables” if you will ” which include items like panties, bras, stockings and socks.
I don’t know exactly what prompted the purging of the underwear drawer, but perhaps it was because the drawer was stuffed full and getting harder and harder to open.
And when I finally yanked it open, it was a surprise. In fact, I laughed my butt off when I saw what was in the back bowels of the drawer. There were water bras, gel bras, padded bras and even a screaming red bra that I have no recollection of ever buying.
If I did, it was from a very, very long time ago.
Then there were socks that had absolutely no matching mate and those that had a big hole, allowing the big toe to poke through.
There were pairs of underwear with holes in them as well ” something my mother always said never to wear in case I “got into an accident.”
Personally, if I got into an accident, I would hope that the emergency personnel would be more concerned about my injuries than my underwear.
“Oh my GAWD! Look at the hole in her skivvies!” an EMT would exclaim after cutting off my clothing while trying to save my life, according to my mother. “I’m not touching that. Let her bleed to death.”
The big granny-panties given to me by, naturally, my mother were in exquisite shape, namely because they’ve never been worn. They’re huge. They could double as parachutes when sky-diving. I would shoot myself before I’d wear them.
But what really shocked me was the discovery of thong underwear in my drawer.
Those who have known me for a while know that I HATE thong underwear. It’s just not right. It may look good for a time during a romantic interlude, but you cannot convince me that it’s comfortable as part of an all-day outfit. So why did I have five pairs in my drawer?
“Do you need a slingshot?” I asked Husband-Head as I scooped out the offending undies from the drawer. “I’ll bet these would work really well.”
“Pass,” was all Husband-Head would say.
The stockings were funny, only because I can’t remember the last time I wore a pair. Nevertheless I went through them, scanning each leg for any runs or holes.
“Those things are pretty cool for Halloween masks,” Husband-Head noted, watching me. “I don’t know what they make your legs look like, but it’s really fun when you put them over your head. …”
When I finished with my underwear drawer, I moved on to organize Husband-Head’s drawer, which was just as bad as mine.
Like me, he had undies and socks that could easily have qualified to be displays in the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C.
His undergarments, too, made me laugh when I fished them out.
“Leopard bikini underwear?” I laughed, with my hand over my mouth. “You’ve GOT to be kidding!”
“YOU’RE the one who gave them to me as a gift when we first started going out!” Husband-Head said defensively. “I would never have bought those. And, if you’d ever noticed, I never wore them, either.”
We started dating 17 years ago. …
“OK, so the leopard print things may have been a little much, but didn’t you used to wear some fun colored stuff?” I asked Husband-Head as I continued to go through his drawer, pulling out pair after pair of Mighty Whiteys.
Husband-Head rolled his eyes.
“Once you’re married, you don’t have to wear that fancy stuff,” he said defensively.
The bottom line is that, at times, it’s good to clean out your underwear drawer and get back in touch with your undies.
And if you happen to find thong underwear in your drawers … just know that they make great sling-shots. …
Heidi Rice is a reporter for the Post Independent. Her column runs every Friday. To buy her new book, “Skully Says Shut It!: Life, Love, and Laughter with Husband-Head,” visit her website at http://www.heidirice.com or visit your local bookstore.
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