Tuesday, March 20, 2007

UndieLess in Seattle: A Cautionary Tale

Is your interest piqued?

Dateline: My underwear drawer; 8:30 this morning.

Down to my last pair again? It was only like 4 days ago that I restocked it with freshly laundered undies. I knew I was starting to run low but this is living on the edge.

You know how you get to that point when you haven't "gone underwear shopping" (as 22 year old girlfriend terms it) for awhile but you know you need to because the ones inhabiting the drawer . . . and the hamper . . . and the basket of unfolded laundry sitting on the living room couch . . . and the floor . . . are showing signs of advanced wear and neglect? So I've reached that point. Or, more accurately, I reached that point some time ago but didn't notice because the rest of my life is going to hell in a handbasket and what matter is underwear when my new hobby is lying on the couch sobbing 18 hours at a stretch?

I guess I must have been paying enough attention to the problem to occasionally throw out those which were significantly beyond their expiration date. [And no, I don't do this with previously enjoyed panties.] My conscious mind, however, didn't quite pick up on the mathematical problem before me:

undies - undies = disturbing lack of undies

Are you all screaming into your monitors, "Go shopping for heaven's sake and find something just a smidgen less inane to talk about!"

Oh, would that I could . . .

But it's just not that easy.

Several of my girlfriends and I were sitting around yakking one day . . . scratch that . . . we were having a genteel and refined discussion as our brilliant and non-neglected homeschooled children were immersed in some advanced genetic engineering experiments, when the subject of midlife affairs came up (in purely abstract terms, of course.) Angie mentioned that the most readable sign that a husband is having a fling is if he buys new underwear. Good to know!

Now, my sweet Mister knows all about, and is nobly tolerant of, my less than above board chats with a certain Young Guy*. Mister has said--and let me directly quote--"Have your fun. Just don't sleep with him."

Are you catching on to my dilemma? I can't go out and buy new underwear now! What would my sweet Mister think?!

So I'm stuck. UndieLess in Seattle.



*Disclaimer: This is mostly played for laughs. While Young Guy is a real person, there is nothing going on between us outside of the occasional phone call which is mostly maternal in nature. Just so we're all on the same page . . .


CheekierMeSly said...

That's easy. Take Mister *with you* when you go to shop for new underwear. Let him pick it out. 'nuff said.

Rick said...

As much as I would like to comment! I must take a pass.

whitenoise said...

Argh...Cheek! She's not trying to kill the man! We hate shopping unless expensive electronics are involved.

Kristing- the affair-signaling type are those in racy reds, those that have any sort of lace attached or those of the thong variety.

Go to Walmart and buy a 6-pack of fruit-of-the-looms. He won't even blink.

Erin O'Brien said...

"previously enjoyed panties"

This, I like. I like this a lot.

And in my defense, I did not donate, purchase or closely inspect the "previously enjoyed panties," I just photographed them for pity's sake!


There is a river of diamonds, a halo of clouds. Inhale. Eastward is hope, westward goes death.

whitenoise said...

But what happened to the ape and the nun?

Kristin said...

Cheek and Whitenoise--between the two of you, I think you've hit upon a solution! Mister frequents Wal-Mart for whatever crap he needs, about whose inferior qualitity he is later infuriated.

Solution: Go with Mister to Wal-Mart (a supreme sacrifice as shopping *anywhere* with Mister is enough to send me straight to divorce court)--that way we're shopping together--as Cheek suggested. And then, as Whitenoise has been kind enough to mention, into the cart throw a pack of non racy, non lacey, non-thong, grandma variety undies.

Okay, now I'm thinking my life is suckier than I imagined if buying a Wal-Mart pack of grandma panties is what it's going to take to keep my marriage alive . . . Must rethink . . .

Rick--a gentleman as always : )

Erin--*love* your blog. Am dying to read your book!

Kristin said...

Wait--whitenoise, I wonder if I have misunderstood your comment . . .

Regarding the "affair-signaling" type of underwear, is that what Mister needs to worry about or am *I* supposed to watch out for that variety in *his* underwear drawer?

So confused now . . .

whitenoise said...

LOL! One of my colleagues was busted this way. The choice was between claiming some sort of weird, cross-dressing fetish or admiting to eating cake. (Or was that having cake, I need to get the terminology straight.)

BTW, I hope you don't mind the many visits today. I'm stuck in a little hotel room on the prairie. It's either surf or work on my exam...

Kristin said...

Oh geez--in your colleague's position I would have claimed freaky cross-dressing habit : )

And NO, I don't mind all your visits in the least! It feeds my megalomaniacal fantasy that the mere mention of my storied panties is upping my numbers! hee hee

Erin O'Brien said...

**Snoopy-dance happy**

Erin O'Brien said...

And whitenoise, if I ever discover the fate of the nun and the ape, I shall cry a river first, write you a note with invisible ink next.


clarice said...

Okay it is different when a girl buys new underwear. It is totally different rule. Basiclly guys never buy underwear unless, well you know xoxox Clarice

Kristin said...

Awwww, see, this is why I love you Clarice. You always get straight to the practical, simple heart of any matter : )

Erin O'freaking Brien has visited me twice!
a) I am crying with joy!
b) I also had an orgasm ; )

whitenoise said...

Wow. It was good for me, too.

Off to work with me, now. Sweet dreams, everyone. Uncle Whitenoise'll be watching over you from seven miles up. ;-)

no rest for the wicked

Rick said...

I linked your site to mine. I hope you don't mind!

Mary said...

Goodness. Who knew that the topic of panties, or the lack thereof, could cause such a stir? Um . . . oh yeah, there are men present. Undies always cause a stir among the testosterone driven. ;-)

Darlin', seriously, do a Britney.

Problem solved.

Kristin said...

Rick--I'm honored : )

Mary--good heavens woman, you've seen my body! If firm, young Britney can't get away with that . . .

Anonymous said...

What is wrong with you people?! Kris, buy some really naughty/nice undies. If Mister asks, tell him they were a gift from Young Guy.

I bought new underwear and new socks a couple of weeks ago. Not married. Not even dating. But the feeling of new unders and socks every day has given me an almost-freshly-... ummm... -shagged feeling to start each day.

whitenoise said...

Anon, do you realize how complicated marital politics can be? Actions cannot be taken lightly or impulsively. Each transaction is carefully parsed for meaning by the other side. Every word, however innocuous its intent, will be filed for future use in case it should have potential in gender warfare.

Sheesh. Let's just give nukes to the Iranians and Iraqis and be done with it... ;-)

Anonymous said...

whitenoise, of course! And my plan will leave all the nukes safely ensconced in Kristin's silos. She, firmly in control of The Button. One does not have to cater or compromise when one has Hand.


Kristin said...

Ohhhh, Anon--naughty soul that you are--you are trying to get me in trouble!

I think I will buy the naughty/nice unders (btw, using the shorthand version of my name *and* using your word 'unders' gives your identity away--you know that, right? ; ) And I'll tell Mister they were a gift from you ; ) I don't know who that gives 'hand' to though.

sing me
Politically Challenged

CheekierMeSly said...

Yes, CountryMouse, you've stumbled on it. Show some skin, or talk about showing of skin, and your hit rates go UP!

Do NOT buy frumpilicious unders. You'll look like you're carrying a load in yer pants. While that may not raise suspicions about extracirricular activities, it could make Mister mosey to "that" aisle and pick you up some Depends. ew.

I switched to thongs whilst married and didn't raise suspicions as to the having or eating of cake. At switch time, I developed and still possess a personal passion for good ass curvature.

For women, this translates to panty line pet peeves. Particularly when pants are so tight that the horizontal line at the bottom of the "liner" area can be seen. Thongs solve that problem - but learn from Cheek and only go for the non-cotton, non-lace variety. Lycra is your friend. Target beats WalMart in selection, for Mister-accompanied shopping. TLC episode of "What Not to Underwear" should be required viewing for all women.

For men, pet peeve is a big ass-wallet (literally!) in the back pocket (or worse (in the South), a dip can ring in the denim). Nothing chaps my ass-grabbing, er, viewing pleasure more.

Chicks can also solve the pantyline problem by going commando – not Britney-advised when wearing skirts, but works for bottoms you’re going to wash anyway.