Wednesday, April 27, 2005
So, is everyone else as attached to their panties as I am? Because, I really am. When I was a young teenager, on the day I got my first job, my mom said to me “Debbie” (please imagine her speaking in a Guyanese accent) “Debbie, every time you get pay, you must always buy a panty.” I don’t think my mother knows how much I took that to heart. But I may well buy 52 pairs a year.
However, there are some pairs that I can’t seem to do without even though they are way past their prime. I can’t stop wearing them even when it has become painfully obvious that I should throw them out. Parting with particular pairs that have special significance is almost impossible. Like the pair I wore to my cousin’s wedding or the undies I had on the night I chatted with Canadian Icon, Master T after the Maxwell concert. There is no way I’ll ever get rid of my panties with that extra special portrait of former Prime Minister, Pierre Elliot Trudeau on the front.
You know what ends up happening? These panties become so useless that they fall down. It’s a good thing I often wear pants. Once, a few years ago, while wearing a skirt, my panties came down as I walked through the office. That’s right, at 4:32pm on November 14, 2000 the pink lace hit the floor. Thankfully, I worked for the government and the office was deserted. But imagine what could have happened.
I’ve been thinking about this because last night I did a lot of laundry. While at the Laundromat (which, unfortunatly is not a special place where a cute boy named Matt does your laundry for you free of charge!) I noticed that not only did I wash a ridiculous amount of underwear, but there were pairs in there that I forgot I owned. Perfectly good panties, yet, I continue to pull on the classics. I guess I am a creature of habit.