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The One In Which I Discuss My Underwear In Too Great Of Detail

March 05, 2007

My mom is notorious for her shopping skillz. To wit:

1. Several weeks ago, she called me and asked me to go shopping with her for jeans. I jumped at the chance because she never shops for herself and I wanted to witness it. I walked away from the mall with two very large, very full, very heavy bags of clothes. She walked away with one small(ish) bag.

2. A week and a half after that excursion, she called because she was out shopping again. Apparently she had run into quite the sale, and wanted to inform me that she bought me several pairs of underthings, and did I mind that she couldn’t find any nude-colored bras?

3. This weekend she unloaded on me two boxes of Special K cereal and one pair of quite fancy kitchen shears.

I’ve always loved shopping with my mom because she has a nose for bargains – if there is one to be had, she’ll find it. Which is how I ended up with one pair of freakishly large underwear.

They’re black and almost tall enough to wear as a strapless one-piece swimsuit. Just as the aqua tag boasts, they’re irresistibly soft (though Roger manages to find them resistible).

When Mom first gave them to me, I laughed out loud and shrieked, “Mom! Roger will NEVER go for these. They’re so…BIG!” She giggled and said to try them, that I’d like them – the same thing she said about eating brussel sprouts all those years ago (though that time, she was right) – and so I smiled, uncertain what to think, and put them in my dresser drawer. I wasn’t sure I’d ever wear them.

That was a week ago, long enough for them to get lost in the deep recesses of my drawer.

(Insert a gentle segue between these two topics HERE.)

On Saturday night, Roger and I had surprise dinner plans.

Roger told me on Saturday morning that I should get a little dressed up, since we were going somewhere nice. I kind of scoffed, thinking to myself, "I have tons of things to wear. No reason to put extra thought into this." and went about my daily business.

And then, later that evening, it happened. The meltdown.

It was half an hour before we were supposed to walk out the door. I was standing in the closet performing my ritual of staring in perplexion* at my odd assortment of clothes and wishing I had that closet from the movie Clueless – remember that closet? It was computerized and had a monitor that showed endless outfit options, and the clothes cycled through on some sort of moving belt system?

Roger had simply told me, "Just put on a dress or something and look cute," and when those last two words were uttered, my world came crashing down – gah. I know, okay? I know. Am considering keeping valium on hand – and I realized that I would never look cute because I didn't have a dress to wear, so I shut the closet door, leaned against it, and wailed that he should just go to the restaurant without me. For lo: I had nothing to wear and how could he try to make me go out somewhere nice with him? Where other humans would have to see me? And maybe even talk to me?

My delusional behavior continued for about fifteen minutes, all during which Roger was probably rolling his eyes while he tried to talk to me in a rational manner, but I couldn't see what he was doing. Remember? I had shut myself into the closet.

My maturity astounds you, does it not?

I decided that I would allow my husband to take me on a date afterall, and hastily put on a skirt and a shirt with a long sparkly necklace. I walked out the door as though my outfit came together effortlessly, as though I hadn't just spent fifteen minutes in the closet pining for prettiness and cute dresses, as though I hadn't just been cursing myself because my staple work uniform is a pair of slacks and a button down blouse.

What was so hard about that, again? Because clothing myself shouldn't be this difficult.

All the way to the restaurant I teased Roger that I had a surprise** for him. That maybe I had put on something very special under my clothes just to let him know how I felt. That maybe he would be excited about what I was wearing under there.

Then I giggled a very malicious giggle, one that he wasn't sure how to interpret, because I knew what I was really wearing.

(Thank you, Mom.)

* Dictionary.com says this is not a word. Therefore, it has been dubbed a word by Chirky.com

** In hindsight, I do feel a little guilty about this. Because he took me to a very nice restaurant for dinner with two of our favorite friends, and I had a lovely time. But I still think it's funny.



Awesome surprise! I would totally do the same thing to H.

I almost had a similar closet episode yesterday. I think that I need to gain weight, but only in my waist because I CANNOT FIND PANTS THAT FIT. I suppose I could lose weight in my thights, but realistically, I don't think that's going to happen.


I see those tent panties at the store now and then at the store. I'm truly amazed they are around.

I'm speechless ...



Did Roger laugh when he saw them? Did he roll his eyes? You don't have to give any other details, but I'm curious to know his reaction. lol

I think all girls have those moments where you stand and look in your totally full closet and say, "I have NOTHING TO WEAR!" It's pretty frustrating. The guy's standing there looking at your closet thinking, "You could clothe an entire Third World country."

I'm glad you found something cute to wear though.

P.S. I really want to go shopping with your mom. Just not anywhere near the underwear section.


And so, I'm assuming he got to see the surprise later? Er and he ... um ... did what?

C'mon, suspense bites.


HAH! This post is so awesome. The ritual of staring into your closet. Girl, do I know that one. And then the meltdown of "I HAVE NOTHING TO WEARRRRRR" wailing. LOL. At least Roger tries to reason with you. When I get like that my hubby gets stressed and anxiety-ridden. In fact, there was this one time when he wanted to surprise me by going out to this winery to see an afternoon acoustic concert. So I'm all dressed up nice and pretty wearing heels and such. But the whole drive there I was all emotional & we'd been fighting in the car. Then we pull into the dirt parking lot and EVERYBODY there is like a hippie wearing leather sandals and linen and jeans and polo shirts. I started wailing right there and refused to get out of the car in my finery. We drove home. It was terrible. Oh well! Your mom sounds awesome.


But the most important question is: are they comfortable? :)


I am now more convinced than ever that we are the same person. Or perhaps share some of the same DNA.

O! How I heart you, Chirk. ;)


Ya know...it occurs to me that a little bit of mystery in a person isn't always a bad thing..;)


I must try that! The ole bait and switch!


There are some things you just don't need to know about a person :) But how did you do that nifty drawing of the nobby knees??


Thanks for swinging by my site last week. Your posts have me cracking up! Love it.
(And aren't Mom shopping sprees THE BEST?)


Yes!!!!!!! Sweet revenge for missing blogwho! I love it. But I love your drawing more.


OMG--You are hysterical; I'm dying from this story.


Jes, you tease you. I heard about these underwear and I can't believe you actually wore them. They probably would have fit me just right... come to think of it, those do look like my underwear on that drawing. I almost always wear black underwear, not boxers, as you see, boxers don't provide support and when you walk around an office building all day things should not go bouncing around in loose slacks, that can be obscene.


Ha! That was "The Post in Which You Discuss Your Underwear in Too Great of Detail," Eddo! Fortunately, since marraige I've learned such things about guys, so I'm not too uncomfortable with it! Maybe you and Jes's mom can go do a shopping spree!


Jes I find this very funny since I was calling you yesterday begging to go through your closet since I had just had the same expirience in my closet!!!! You are a great freind and thanks for the offer but I am wearing what I told you about, Hubby loved it!


HA. One, I love that you posted this. Two, I love that you told me you were excited for me to read this post and then finished it off with your own little personal giggle that is so Jes. Three, I want to see how big those panties are now.


you, my friend, are evil... and I like that in a person.


I have a pair of maternity panties that I keep in the drawer just in case I ever feel like being a hot granny.

Oh and the closet meltdown? I totally do that.


Evil! But I could see myself donning underwear like that for laundry day.

I definitely do the closet meltdown thing too, about once a week. Once it's over, my room looks like the closet yakked.


Oh man, I have closet meltdowns all the time. Why is it always so difficult??


heheh that's funny/mean... i love it!


Closet experiences are totally normal. You can come out of the closet about them.

I know, bad pun. But sometimes they just force themselves out.


I think the word you were grasping for was "perplexity", but I'm pleased that you're actively flouting the english language. And in the blogosphere (take that, Merriam and / or Webster), where readers are halfway between "sponge" and "sheep", it's likely that you don't have to even explain which words are real and which are made up.


MLIB, OMSH: Roger's exact response was in the flattest tone ever uttered by humankind: "Ohhh. Greeeeeaaattttt."

Zandria: Oh, honey. You better believe it. Those suckers NOT ONLY were comfortable, BUT ALSO were seamless! No panty lines!

Meg: The drawing is all in the power of Microsoft Paint, standard on all IBM computers. And a very sporadic laptop mousepad.

Lindsay: I agree - Now I know more about Eddo than I wanted to know - but, NO. He and my mother will NOT go on a shopping spree. Eeeeeekkkk!!! My eyes! My ears! Damaged! Damaged!



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