Monday, July 28, 2008

Buying Underwear

There is something extremely refreshing about new underwear. The almost crisp, still-pristine underpants lined up neatly in the dresser drawer next to the still-white rolls of new socks. It's as though we treat them very gingerly at first- folding them carefully, tucking them in after laundry day like tiny baby butterflies.

But later, when the elastic has stretched, the toes become worn, or holes start to pop out like measles- we are not so gentle. We toss them carelessly into the bottom of the laundry basket where they become mismatched, forgotten, or wrinkled into twisted, almost unrecognizable remnants.

Buying underwear today is like choosing furniture. Stores seem to have elaborate displays, offering walls of undies and bins of bloomers and itsy-bitsy live-looking mannequins to help you choose.

Yeah, right!

Why don't they have normal-shaped dummies posing in the lingerie department? Middle-aged woman faces with middle-aged woman bodies, all revealing the typical belly rolls and spreading buttocks and back fat most women actually attempt to clothe.

Last week I decided to shop for new underwear. My old undergarment wardrobe had been forsaken, safety pinned and stretched to the breaking point. My socks were dull, lifeless, struggling in the bottom of the dryer to find their mates.

I knew it was time.

I tell you now, it was worse than the cereal aisle at Super WalMart. So many choices! So many sizes and prices and styles!

There were boxers and briefs and thongs and bikinis. There were slimmers and push-ups and boy shorts and tangas. There were G-strings, hi-cut, lo-cut and athletic. There were control briefs, nude briefs, and seamless briefs. They came in cotton, nylon, spandex, microfiber and mesh.

I was ready to walk out immediately. I was almost reduced to tears, not knowing where to start. But visions of my ransacked drawer at home caused me to persevere in this huge puzzling Pantie Land.

The most frustrating thing about buying underwear is choosing the right size. You can't try them on. You just have to know. You have to hold them up, tilt your head from side to side, and decide if your butt is gonna fit or not.

I always seem to fall someplace in the middle of two sizes. One-and-a-half butt cheeks might gather up into a size Large, but Extra Large would accommodate my entire rump with room to spare. What's a woman to do?

Some underwear I saw were smaller than my watchband, thinner than gold leaf and more pricey than Porterhouse!

I spent two hours and twenty dollars and purchased six briefs, six pairs of socks and a bra from the bargain bin. I took them home, ran them through the wash and began to put them away.

I was tired. It had been a grueling and ghastly ordeal.
I folded them extra carefully,making perfect squares of panties and delicate puffs of socks, knowing that the next time I put them away, they'll be thrown into a sea of chaotic undies and forgotten foot wear.

But for today, I'll hold my head up high and walk briskly in my new underwear. The crisp, still-new fabric in size Large with printed daisies and comfort waistband and half-a-butt-cheek rolling out!