As in “wear.” Underwear.
This post might not be suitable for adolescent boys, my father, stepfather, or father-in-law.
Consider yourself warned.
The Mama has a fondness for fancy panties. Not to be confused with fancy pants, fancy panties are a clandestine indulgence for my comfort and general happiness. I am boring about said panties, and have exactly one style in two colors: black and nude.
Practical, no? I never said it was exciting.
The problem with my beloved, if practical, fancy panties is that I have a tendency to leave them on the floor. And I have a dog. Who has a tendency to chew on anything made of paper or fabric that she finds on or near the floor. And did I mention that I am cheap? While I obviously throw away anything that gets destroyed, I might or might not have a few pairs of fancy panties with a small hole.
The Mama is one classy lady.
Which brings me to this anecdote. I know you wondered where the hell I was going with this one. I was getting ready for work yesterday when The Kidling noticed a small hole near the waistband of my boring fancy panties.
“Mom, you have a hole in those,” she informed me.
I pretended I didn’t know it was there and thanked her onto pointing out the deficiency. She, in turn, offered some unsolicited advice: “Maybe you should throw them away so there isn’t a hole where you pee from.” *
Throw them away? Waste not, want not, girlie. Nice try.
* Which, by the way, was not actually the case. But it was darned funny.