Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Underwear
I am often confused by my underwear. It sits in a drawer, in a pile, some black, some white, some token minorities in shades of lavender and red. The pile daunts me. I reach in and draw out a pair, and I never know what I’ll find waiting in my hands. Will they be French cut? Bikini cut? Perhaps the tag will be on the inside over the butt, or maybe inside the hip. Maybe, the tag will be hanging on the outside next to my belly button so that everyone seeing me undress… meaning my cats… will know that I chose Hanes Her Way ™ for my undergarment needs. I have to ask myself what statement I wish to express under my pants. Are string bikini underwear still sexy if they’ve faded and have runs in the crotch? Are they MORE sexy? I feel as if my life would be easier if I just chose one type of underwear, like a man. This much excitement and consternation so early in the morning is taxing.
I won’t discuss the camisoles.
