I am having an underwear crisis. Yes, really. And no, it's not that funny. A few weeks ago, I realized it was high time I bought some new panties. (god, I hate that word.) My needs are simple, and I'm easily pleased. I was looking for basic black, cotton, comfortable underpants. Nothing weird. There must be enough fabric to cover my substantial back end. There must not be so much fabric that it also covers my boobs. The leg holes need to be just right. Not so small that the blood flow to my legs is cut off, but not so gapingly huge that I look like a sumo wrestler. Not thongs, because those are shoes. Off I went to the store, convinced that this would be a simple errand. HA!!!
First of all, the sizing charts boggled me. In some brands, the size I usually buy looked like small scraps of spare fabric. In other brands, they could have been used as sails for a whaling ship.
Once I figured out the right size, there was the issue of colour and pattern. Remember, I said basic black. I could not find a package. There was bright flowers, stripes, plaid, and of course smiley faces. Some packages had black, but the other pairs in the pack were hideous 50's sofa patterned. Trust me, when your ass is the size and shape mine is, giant orange and fushia blooms are not attractive.
I finally found a package with three black pairs. The right size. The right price. I was giddy....until I realized they were the dreaded thongs. Arghh!!
Anyway. Long story short, I eventually bought some panties. (There's that word again...) They were black. The size seemed appropriate. I wore a pair the other day. Turns out, they are absolutely perfect, so long as you don't mind your panties drifting down until your butt is hanging out, totally uncovered, while you walk. These panties are fantastic for sitting. They stay nicely in place if I don't move. But as soon as I start walking, the top slides down, and eventually they are oh-so attractively wedged under my butt cheeks, held in place only by the force of my jeans.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this tale. I guess I just want sympathy, and to let you know that if you see me doing what looks like a weird little jig, in the middle of the street, just keep on walking. I'd like some privacy while I hitch up my drawers.