That's it. I've decided. When I finally win Mega-Millions or get a job (both equally likely), I'm throwing out all my underpants and buying new ones—and no more Century 21 specials, either. The past week or so, every pair I put on winds up down under my butt within a few blocks of my house. When it was tights weather, there was no problem. But I don't wear pants and so the scanty creep is causing me some issues.
I bought a cute teal pair at Filenes a couple months back. They weren't fancy, but they fit great, had plenty of stretch, looked cute—I thought I'd found the perfect undergarment. But no. Last week while I was hauling my cat around to the vet, I discovered their downfall. I wound up walking down lower Fifth Avenue, discreetly clutching at my gunt (gut meets, you know. . . .) in an effort to keep them from winding up down around my ankles.
Then, just a few minutes ago, I was outside in my new cheapo H&M dress—the one that shows off the boobies—and now these underoos decide to make a break for brighter pastures.
And lest you think that my problems are caused by my excessively frugal buying habits (I refuse to pay full price for such a minimal item of clothing), you're wrong. My boyfriend bought me three pairs of pricey Cosabellas and I had the same problem. I've tried bigger sizes and smaller. Nothing works. I guess I have to face the fact that my bodacious booty wants to fly freebird.
My current under-woes reminded me of a true crisis of underpinnings. My sister had held a panty party for me (don't ask) one birthday and so I wound up with 30 or so pairs of truly ridiculous undergarments. One was a pair of plain, white cotton panties with flames printed over the pubic region and the word "hot!" scrawled across in bright orange letters.
I wasn't really thinking clearly one day and unwittingly slipped them on under an off-white linen dress I liked. My entire stroll to work was punctuated by men staring intently at my crotch and then smiling lewdly in my direction. Icouldn't figure it out—suddenly the whole world was obsessed with my twat! It was only after I reached the cold, bright, unforgiving light of my office's fluorescents that I noticed that the flames were entirely visible through my dress. Hot, indeed!
OMG this was funny as hell. I hope you're OK with this, but I must have the word "gunt" -- mine mine all mine. Have a wonderful weekend. I am off work 'til Tuesday.
Posted by: Maria | May 25, 2006 at 04:33 PM
That maybe very well be the most inconvenient underwear problem I've ever heard. My trouble is more along the lines of dresses with cheap, friction-filled material that bunches up between my legs, riding up higher and higher as I walk down the street until I look down and surprise! there's my crotch.
Posted by: threetoedsloth | May 26, 2006 at 12:27 PM
Post-lottery win, you should pull a Jerry Lewis - did you know he never wears a pair of socks twice? Throws 'em away. You could do the same with nice, high-end panties. (Or create a fake on-line personality as a winsome Japanese lass and auction them off.)
Dear God, I'm actually writing to a beautiful woman about her panties. Has the whole world gone mad?
Posted by: DJ El Toro | May 26, 2006 at 01:01 PM