Favorite Panties



You know when it’s laundry day and you have left that one pair of ratty, worn thin, frayed of up to your navel almost cotton bloomers left in your underwear drawer?  You search in the far back behind the single sockettes searching for a possible bikini panty but sadly you only have that one laundry day underwear.  You intended to put a load of wash in the day before but Life happened and it never did make it to the top of your todo list which has been turned upside down like some huge inverted pyramid that seems impossible to scale.  And it’s not like you can put them on and forget about them.  Each time you lift your leg you can feel your inferior underpant pinch your personal parts.  When you use the loo, you can see the torn lining and you swear today is the day you buy a 6-pack of cotton lingerie on Amazon Prime same day shipping.  But somehow you never do.  Because it seems frivolous.  After all, you have panties.  Many are fine.  There’s that one pair you absolutely love, the one you reach for each time you have clean clothes.  You love the way it hugs your hips, how soft the cotton is against your skin and the waist band fits perfectly without leaving a mark on your backside.

I remember when I first lost my job and I was trying to save money, I would darn underwear and socks, because I couldn’t afford to throw out a pair of panties that had a rip in them.  Truth is I still find it hard to throw away old underwear.  I’m not sure why it doesn’t get bumped up on the priority list.  But this morning when I saw that the redneck had brought the clothes back from the dryer last night I was honestly too happy to dive in and find my gray pair of striped panties.  The one pair that fit perfect, is invisible on all of my slightly worn black leggings and well, I may just have a thing for gray … small wonder.

I knew when I had them in my hand, I’d want to write about them.  Ideas for the blog rodilius filtered image swirled through my mind.  And as I began crafting my plot … I stopped no less than three times to head over to Amazon to put a multi-pack of panties in my cart.  Only to still come up against … do I really need them? Oh no, not those look at the reviews.  That set only has 60% cotton, what are they thinking.  Hmm, is that really US sizing or am I going to get them and they won’t fit and then I’ll really regret buying undies. 

Maybe later.  It’s morning and I don’t do much this early in the day.  And that todo list is looming.  And I need to pay bills and reconcile the bankbook and I seriously need to get started on my taxes.  I haven’t ordered food online yet today and I’m not certain I know what meal planning is for tomorrow, though I think we’ll make quiche tonight.

Yes, my stream of unconsciousness is like white water rafting.  And today I have my favorite pair of panties so the impetus to splurge and actually buy more that fit isn’t as pressing.  But it does give me a moment to look at what, who and how things get deemed worthy.  And what it means when something simply never makes it to the top of the game show pyramid.  Goodness, the redneck complained for the better part of two years (or more) that he didn’t have enough socks.  Which I was convinced he did … they just where lost, or mismatched, or thread bare, or scratchy … they weren’t his favorite pair.  Eventually it got so we couldn’t find any two that matched.  And I scoured the sales and bought him a set of comfy black socks.  All the same, so matches aren’t a problem when one goes missing.  But it was a long time coming.  Because somehow socks and panties never seem to make their way high on the list of needs.

And in my chronically ill fixed income mind … you darn underclothes.  Which I don’t actually do any more.  But I still can’t bring myself to buy new ones … not when my list of to-dos, must have’s, need this and what-nots all feel more important than panties.  Well, especially when the laundry is done and I have that one pair of gray bikini briefs and what more could I ask from the day?

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