Underwear
It was about a month before Christmas – the year before we got married – and my mother-in-law said she’d like to get my husband some underwear for Christmas.
I said “that’s something we will buy as we need it, thanks though.”
She said “well he used to wear boxer-briefs – the kind that go to here..” as she molded her hand into a line on her mid-thigh.
“No, he doesn’t wear those and we’ll just get some when he needs more.”
“Well, I’m sure he still wears the boxer-briefs, that go down to here…”
Really lady. I know what kind of underwear he wears. I’ve been doing his laundry for over two years now.
Freakn-A.
Fast forward to a couple months after our wedding.
She called – and as soon as I picked up the phone she asked “I was wondering what size of underwear you’d wear?”
Um, hi, yeah – nice that you called. Um.
“Why??”
“I got a Victoria’s Secret coupon – and I don’t want to use it for me. I wanted to get you something.” She almost paused long enough for me to respond, “It wouldn’t be a string bikini or anything. Something tasteful… so I was wondering what size you’d wear? Medium?”
“Underwear is something we’ll buy as we need it – like socks.”
“But I have a coupon… medium?”
“It depends, I’d have to try it on.”
“I’ll get you medium and if it doesn’t work, you can exchange it.”
About a week later, we had to go to their house for a meal.
I walked in and saw the pink bag on their dining room table. Great. Avoid it, I decided.
I went to the kitchen and started offering help in preparing the meal.
She said “Your underwear is on the dining room table…”
“Ok.”
“I also got you a catalog – there’s a lot of sexy stuff in there that would look good on a young body like yours – not an old one like mine, but on a young one like yours.. and I was wondering if you would wear anything like that?”
It was time to stop.
“To be honest with you – I got a lot of stuff like that at my bachelorette party and it does no good – it all goes on the bedroom floor.”
She turned sheet-white. Conversation over.
We took my car, so I made the drive home.
I asked my husband to pull the panties out of the bag and asked if it was something I’d wear.
“I guess.” He saw nude-colored tan and assumed it was normal.
I got home, pulled them out of the bag and saw… a lot of fabric. Granny-panties?!
Oh yeah, I will woo my husband into baby-making with these on.
My husband said to take them to the store and exchange them.
So I did – but I couldn’t bear wearing them.
The irony was too much – wearing underwear from HER is like wearing a wedgy all day long.
