I showered and dressed this morning and reached my hand into my unmentionables drawer. I fished around in the dark (remember it's 5:45am and the house is still sleeping) and pulled out what I thought was a t-shirt. Before I could wonder why a t-shirt was in my incredibly organised (HA!) drawer, I realized I was clutching a previously dreaded granny panty.
When I was younger, after bucking it for years, I was all about the thong. I even blogged about the first time I tried one out. That phase lasted for years. After that I went for "boy shorts". Those didn't work out so well when I found they didn't go high enough in the waist. There's nothing like getting a glimpse of yourself in the mirror looking like John Goodman in short shorts. Brrr. There are sights that you can never unsee no matter how hard you try. I'm looking into hypnotism to deal with the trauma.
Then came the final realization that grannies have really got something here. They cover the unsightly "beer gut" (thanks, kids) and they never, ever ride up. So what if it looks like I'm wearing a one piece bathing suit when I'm fully undied up but when I bend down in my hip huggers, you'll only see my black Fruit Of The Looms and not my ass crack. Score.
I think we have a winner, folks. I mean, after 23 years, who am I trying to seduce? I've got the guy. I'm well past middle age so I deserve to be comfortable under my clothes if nowhere else (I'm looking at you 2 hour Louboutins). So it's granny panties for the win.
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