Tweet Being that yesterday I did all the laundry and folded it downstairs, in the basement, away from the children, and that I spent the last part of my evening glued to the television set watching the Downton Abbey, not blinking, and therefore became too lazy to go back down to the basement and bring up any of my clothes I might need to wear, and also because I began to read a book called The History of Love by Nicole Krauss - which immediately lives up to its description as 'hauntingly beautiful' and made me stay up too late so then I was tired this morning and woke up late and therefore did not have the time to run downstairs to get any clean clothes, I was forced to wear the absolute last pair of clean underwear I had in my drawer; that being a mauve colored pair I wore when I was pregnant. And these suckers are HUGE. But surprisingly comfortable. And also, my sternum now has an extra layer of cotton protection which will probably cut down on my chances of contracting a chest cold. Who knew maternity underwear could stretch so high once one became unpregnant?
The fact I'm wearing underwear that could easily fit a wooly mammoth was going to be my little secret. Except then it got to be lunch time and I didn't bring any lunch, yet I wasn't actually hungry so I just kept working. But then I got hungry. Really hungry. Except the day was almost over so what's the point of leaving now to go track down lunch? Plus I can't really go through the drive-thru anymore because having Celiac Disease does that. Where's your gluten free buns, Burger King? Huh? And so I opened my drawer that houses my emergency stash. Which included exactly one small box of gluten free Cream of Rice.
Even with 5 packets of sugar stirred in it's still nasty. Trust me. Nasty enough where I just ladled up a spoonful and swallowed, praying nothing grazed a taste bud. And that worked for awhile. Up until I hit the center of the goopy glob and accidently swallowed alarge spoonful of 487-degree Cream of Nasty. And my esophogus started burning. Bad. And then my stomach. And I'm pretty sure my stomach lining suffered 2nd and 3rd degree burns. And I could hardly breath. And I had nothing to drink on my desk. And I swore I was about to die.
But I couldn't die! Not while wearing these ridiculous underwear! Seriously? How utterly embarrassing would that be? Not on my watch, thankyouverymuch. I'll be passing on a day when I'm wearing an overpriced matching set from Victoria's Secret. Or else in my sleep wearing my comfy pajama pants and long sleeved t-shirt with the frayed collar. Go Badgers! Either of those scenarios will be acceptable.
Anyway. The reason I'm telling you now is because should something accidently happen to me today that is beyond my control, I don't want my granny panties to be the talk of the town. I'd rather just burst the rumor bubble before it starts.
And for the record - these are surprisingly comfy. I might have to run out of underwear more often. Sorry, Big V. Mama's getting comfortable!