onlysweetpea
Bluelighter
underwear.
Explanation as follows:
All women have those 2-3 pairs that they’ve had since the dawn of
time. Most of them hang on to them out of sheer laziness. I hang onto
them because I have a hard time throwing anything away, attaching
sentimental value to an empty coke can and numerous memoirs both lame and impractical. Plus, it’s what I wear when the laundry situation becomes
intense.
Today, laundry is not desperate, but my hangover carried over from
the weekend and made the world foggy. 6AM I reach into the closet and
haphazardly dress myself. I am grateful that most of my wardrobe is
black. Makes mornings like this easier and makes sure that I do not
accidentally stroll into the office in something circus like.
I get on the bus fine. I ride the bus fine. I get off the bus fine.
I get off at 3rd and Market. I start walking towards work and slowly
but surely feel my underwear liberating itself from my body.
My brow creases with concern.
I pause on the corner of Kearny and Post and lean against a pole to
try and hide the fact that I am yanking disintegrating fabric back up
over my butt.
I am hit with the realization that I had grabbed prehistoric panties,
the ones with no elastic waistband to speak of. AND I was wearing a
dress. There would be no tucking it into the waistband of your
bottoms to keep the underwear alive.
I managed to get into (waddled) the office okay, smiling, saying
hello to the security guard and several co-workers. Once in the safety of
the bathroom, I decided to let it go, slid the underwear down, and
threw them into the trash. I crumpled up some paper towels and threw
them on top to hide it and am proceeding with my day because working
for the man, the man don’t really care if you’ve got your panties up in a twist, or if you don’t have any on at all. Most people would simply go buy a new pair. I’m sort of enjoying my newfound freedom.
I feel sorta carefree, light and airy…like a tampon commercial.
I’m sure in some alternate universe, some would consider this sexy.
I laugh though and find the whole situation hilarious, because I’m
just an ass that way.
Explanation as follows:
All women have those 2-3 pairs that they’ve had since the dawn of
time. Most of them hang on to them out of sheer laziness. I hang onto
them because I have a hard time throwing anything away, attaching
sentimental value to an empty coke can and numerous memoirs both lame and impractical. Plus, it’s what I wear when the laundry situation becomes
intense.
Today, laundry is not desperate, but my hangover carried over from
the weekend and made the world foggy. 6AM I reach into the closet and
haphazardly dress myself. I am grateful that most of my wardrobe is
black. Makes mornings like this easier and makes sure that I do not
accidentally stroll into the office in something circus like.
I get on the bus fine. I ride the bus fine. I get off the bus fine.
I get off at 3rd and Market. I start walking towards work and slowly
but surely feel my underwear liberating itself from my body.
My brow creases with concern.
I pause on the corner of Kearny and Post and lean against a pole to
try and hide the fact that I am yanking disintegrating fabric back up
over my butt.
I am hit with the realization that I had grabbed prehistoric panties,
the ones with no elastic waistband to speak of. AND I was wearing a
dress. There would be no tucking it into the waistband of your
bottoms to keep the underwear alive.
I managed to get into (waddled) the office okay, smiling, saying
hello to the security guard and several co-workers. Once in the safety of
the bathroom, I decided to let it go, slid the underwear down, and
threw them into the trash. I crumpled up some paper towels and threw
them on top to hide it and am proceeding with my day because working
for the man, the man don’t really care if you’ve got your panties up in a twist, or if you don’t have any on at all. Most people would simply go buy a new pair. I’m sort of enjoying my newfound freedom.
I feel sorta carefree, light and airy…like a tampon commercial.
I’m sure in some alternate universe, some would consider this sexy.
I laugh though and find the whole situation hilarious, because I’m
just an ass that way.
