The Underwear Drawer

It was time to clean out my underwear drawer. I’d been struggling to stuff my clean laundry in there for a while. “What the hell is in here?” I thought, digging past the piles of undies that I’ve become accustomed to. And I pulled out a handful of these:


And some of these:


And a bunch of these:


Not those exactly, but variations on the theme. I would’ve shown you my actual sexy underthings if I hadn’t immediately had a memorial service for them, cried my eyes out and tossed them into the trash.

RIP sexy undies. You made me proud. You kept me panty-line free. You made me feel young and fun and hot. We had some good times. Remember that time you got pulled off and placed on the Christmas tree at that one party, inspiring others to do the same, until the entire tree was covered in underwear? You were the sexiest pair on that tree:

Ah, undies of 2006, you made me proud.
Ah, undies of 2006, you made me proud.

What happened? How did I go from those… to these?


Except mine are beige. Booooorrrrrinnng. Yes. It’s true. I wear those. Cotton. Lace-free. Mom panties. I won’t say Granny panties just yet, but pretty damn close. They are actually “boy shorts” style, so I like to think a small step up from giant briefs. But there is a lot of material there.

I remember mocking my mom friend when I saw her clean laundry and what she was sportin’ in the bedroom these days — full-coverage briefs. I called her a grandma, and she made a snide comment about my butt floss.

But now I get it. At some point when I was pregnant, I bought some bigger underwear to cover my expanding posterior. And damn, if they weren’t comfortable. And after I gave birth, there was no way I was wearing thongs anytime soon. I mean, you just want your sore parts to feel better. To be covered. To not be crammed with scratchy, lacy, tiny strings. So the big ones became the standard, and the tiny ones got shoved to the back of my drawer.

And now the sexy things are gone and the big girl panties fill my underwear drawer. This is my life now.

But it’s not the end of the line yet. I’ll be sure to update this post when I’ve moved on to the next stage:


DH, I know you’re cringing, but we both know it’s going to happen. Better make peace with it now.

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