I buy underwear rarely, and when I do it’s in quantity. I load up on Fruit of the Loom tighty whiteys on an annual basis. A year ago, I bought the packs that had multi-colors.
This made me feel special. I had black, grey, green white, red, and I could express myself as the occasion warranted with none being the wiser.
A year of jogging and wear and tear later, and my twenty pairs of colorful undies were looking a bit ragged. The running wears a hole in the crotch behind the scrotum.
I guess the benefit would be that if you ever really in a hurry to pinch a loaf, you’d only have one layer that had to be removed. I’ve never tested that and in fact, don’t enjoy the sensation of being exposed. Then of course there is the inevitable “What if you are in a car crash and get taken to the hospital and they see that your underwear has a hole in it?”
Yesterday I resolved to buy new underwear and while the wife and kiddies were at JCPenney shopping for shoes, I looked for underwear.
All they had at JCPenney was Calving Klein, no Jockey’s, no Fruit of the Loom, so I ran, under time constraint to the other end of the mall to the Bon Ton.
The Bon Ton has Jockey brand underwear.
I noticed something unusual. I had the normal choice of Small, Medium, Large, Xlarge, but over to the right they had individual sizes.
“Great!” I thought. “I can buy a perfect fit.” So I bought five packs of size 32, ran to the register, paid, and made it back to JCPenney in time to pay for my kids’s new shoes.
Last night I take a shower and put on a new pair of underwear.
It seems that I have not purchased tighty whities. I bought 20 pair of eurothongs.
You know what I’m talking about, the kind of underwear fat hairy european men wear on the beach. Coldfire probably wears these.
They are just wrong.
They kind of set you up with this big bodacious package up front, instead of decently covering things up like a pair of tighty whiteys.
Instead of being an honest strong cotton, they are this filmy, barely opaque elastic, kind of like pantyhose.
I opened all the packages downstairs so I wouldn’t have to deal with the garbage, so I’m stuck with them.
Speaking of garbage, I loaded my garbage into a pair of these with a little trepidation and strutted around the bathroom experimentally.
Hmmmm. It seems there is something about these thongs. They kind of turn you into a fat hairy middle-aged european man, don’t they?
Never being one for half-measures I found a wife-beater tshirt, put that in, you know, to get the full effect.
Balding, hairy back, love handles, thong, wife beater tshirt that emphasizes the shoulder hair…
I kind of really had it going on.
I kind of like it.
I went to sleep.
My wife woke up first, and shook me awake.
“Time to get up.”
I stumbled out of bad and scatched my ass on my way to the bathroom.
Unlike any other day, on this day she followed me.
“My my my,” she said. “Something you want to tell me about?”
I’m wearing them now.
