SPRING CLEANING

Guys, this offering is about panties. Continue reading at your own risk and/or discretion.

This is something I make a stab at every year. The important factor here is that I try. I’ve never claimed to be a June Clever. First of all, I only wear a dress on special occasions (and it’s usually denim), and I don’t have a three strand pearl necklace, or a husband named Ward, or sons named The Beaver and Wally.

The scenario every spring is that I vow to clean out a closet, cabinet, drawer, dresser and or some other rat hole at least once a week. The problem with this is that it’s such a traumatic experience, it sort of peters out before I’ve finished top to bottom. Let’s just say that I’ve decided to start a new family tradition, specifically among us women folk. New inspiration is hanging in the air; new meaning to spring cleaning.

I had finally gotten to my dresser drawers last week. The bottom T-shirt and Shorts drawer went smoothly. I knocked it down to stuff I can actually wear and tossed out stuff I had not worn in a year or more. The “Kiss me, I’m Irish” shirt that used to be Mom’s will be proudly worn by someone else who needs a kiss. The next drawer was a little more detailed. Most people close to me know that I love socks. It was definitely harder to part with some of the socks I’d collected over the years. The donation was huge, and I can finally open and close the drawer without having to jam stuff back in and hold it there while I try to close it. A huge burden was lifted when that drawer was done.

Here comes the true inspiration of which I speak. Finally! This top drawer almost never gets sorted. Panties and bras from years before live in there. For some reason, I’ve never been able to just toss them away or give them to the next charity that calls. Instead of just sorting through, I actually pulled the drawer out and dumped it on the bed. Oh-My-Gawd! How could all of that fit into this one drawer? After sitting on the bed staring at this heap, I made a decision right then and there. I’d just throw out the old panties and bras and buy all new! What a concept! And so was inspired to begin the sorting.

As I sorted through the piles and piles of panties and bras, I wondered why I had kept all of them, and what was so compelling about those panties that I just didn’t toss them a long time ago? Did I actually believe that it would be wasteful to get rid of them? Is this a Baby-Boomer thing? They were dingy; the elastic was practically gone; not to mention that I hadn’t even seen most of these items in three years. What special occasion was I saving these for? The ones that were actually in good shape and pretty also happened to be too small, much to my chagrin. They went into the give away bag. By the end of the afternoon I’d gotten it down to absolutely three pairs that I kept. I needed to go shopping immediately! As exhausted as I was from this task, I managed to get my self into my truck and head out to buy more panties and bras.

I was amazed at the mind boggling assortment. As many other things are … there are just too many to choose from. A clerk ambled over and asked if she could help me find something. I must have walked in with a question mark on my face, so I decided to have a little fun with her.

“Uh … Where are the panties with the days of the week on them?” That got me an amused, but shocked look. When she finally found her words, the clerk said: “Well, you’d probably find some in the little girls section, but probably not in … uh … women’s sizes.”

I’m not sure how she meant that, but I assumed there hadn’t been any panties with the days of the week on them in the women’s department recently, if ever. You could hardly classify days of the week panties, lingerie. So, I decided to pretend I was shopping for someone else. This girl wasn’t going to be any fun.

“Well, my granddaughter is coming to visit, and I want to make sure … Uh … I’ll just check that out when I’m through shopping for me.” That prompted,

“What can I help you find for you? Would you be interested in a colorful thong?” Well, no. I’m not in the shoe department, now am I? And, I don’t think it matters if my panties and bras match my flip-flops.

Actually, I was pretty sure that what I wanted was comfortable and ergonomically designed; nothing binding or suffocating. I supposed I mean cotton, to the waist and high cut legs. At this description, the clerk led me to several choices. She actually showed me to the items that I described to her right off the bat. This trip was easier than I thought it would be. I selected several pairs of panties and bras, paid for them and drove home with a very satisfied smug. Smug about what, I don’t know, but that’s how I felt, like I’d outsmarted someone … probably me.

I called one of my sisters to tell her of this new, wonderfully freeing tradition that I was starting. She agreed, and vowed to clean out her drawers the next day.

The next day, I felt that I needed to just get out of the house. I called my dear friend Marilyn to see if she’d have lunch with me. Her husband usually joins us, which is always just fine with me. They work in the same area, and he is very entertaining. We selected a restaurant and time to meet. I dressed and got there in time to pull up at the same time they were pulling up.

Marilyn and I mostly just chatter on as though Raymond wasn’t even there. Not that we ignore him. He’s usually just in awe of our conversations, and plain speechless. We’re that comfortable in his presence. I told Marilyn about my new tradition of throwing out old undies and buying new every year. I could tell that she was really enchanted by this whole idea. As we chattered back and forth, we got interrupted by Raymond.

“Hey! I totally approve of this! Aaannnd, you have my permission to take my wife shopping for new lingerie, because all of her panties are…!” At that point Marilyn stopped her husband from saying any more. “We won’t discuss my underwear, Raymond!”

I jumped in with, “Marilyn! You and I will go shopping next week! Isn’t there a Fredericks of Hollywood at Willowbrook Mall?” Raymond’s eyes started to water and bug-out, as I knew they would, so Marilyn piped in, “OKAY! We’ll go shopping!” And she changed the subject. Now, did you hear anything from Sylvia? She was asking about you. Clever exit, Marilyn.

All I’m saying is that this new tradition is extremely elating and spirit freeing, if only to liberate a woman from the old dingy, stretched and worn undergarments. Really! It was all I needed to get back into the spirit of spring. Who knows, you guys just might want to try it. You know you could probably read the Sunday funnies through those old boxers, and I’m not mending the crotches one more time.