Sunday, September 7, 2008

They Come in a Three Pack

Yesterday morning I was getting dressed, and pulled on a pair of my favorite "Lady Jockey" underwear. Ryan was puttering around while I did this, and very helpfully pointed out that the panties in question had seen better days. Much better days. Like days when holes didn't take up more space than fabric. Days when the waistband wasn't almost completely uncovered elastic held on by threads. Days when they didn't look like something a hillbilly stripper should be wearing.

I took his observation into account, and decided maybe it was time to get rid of them. They ripped a little more as I was taking them off, but I was still sad when I put them in the trash can. I mean, I know those underwear had cost me at least 3 dollars, and I had only gotten ten years of wear out of them. But marriage is about compromise, and I like to look good for my husband. I would prefer he thinks "damn, that cotton makes her ass look sexy" than just "damn." However, I didn't realize that this would turn him into the underwear police.

Today we were putting way laundry when he picked up my pile of jockeys and began going through them. At first I thought he was just sorting them into "everyday" and "special occasion" panties, and I was touched by his thoughtfulness. However, then he turned and uttered the words that chilled my soul: "do you want to throw out the pairs with holes?" I rushed over and pulled the endangered panties from his hands, whispering soothing reassurances to them.

What's next? Throwing out my bathrobe just because the shoulders are a little frayed? Or my work out t-shirts just because they are a little stained? I am perfectly willing to keep my "going out" clothes nice, but if no one but me or Ryan sees them, I go for comfort first. And second. And, actually, third. If he wants to throw something out I'll let him toss my bras. Or pantyhose. Or high heels. Hell, I'll even cut holes in some of my heels if it makes him feel better. He just has to keep his hands off my panties. Well, not all the time...


calicobebop said...

"I know those underwear had cost me at least 3 dollars, and I had only gotten ten years of wear out of them" I love that line!

I'm the same way, I love my undies and would rather buy some new ones for my daughter than for myself. But hey - you know he's looking! ;)

Dunc said...

I'm dying over here - you are absolutely hilarious (though I don't doubt that the entire story is true). Keep on keepin' on (or is that too creepy for a blogger-to-blogger comment?)!

She Said said...

Thank you for the laughs this morning! That was great! I SO get this! Really.