Over the years, I have often wondered when it is that a woman makes the change from Victoria's Secret Sexy Little Things teeny tiny silk and lace string thongs to Granny Panties. Is there a progression? Is something triggered overnight? Or is it a specific age she reaches that she realizes comfort over cute? Today, as I was folding laundry, I realized, I have reached that point. The Grannies far outnumber the Sexy Thangs now. And really, isn't now, after the birth of two beautiful boys, when I have a few extra pounds hanging around and I am exhausted all the time, isn't that when I need to feel sexy? Not when I actually thought I was, when I was all tight and toned and stuff?
As a single woman, I had a huge selection of Sexy Thangs to wear but let's face it, we all have had Granny Panties hidden in our underwear drawer for laundry day. Never for date night though!! But there comes a time when they become your go-to-drawers instead of your last-resorts. Even the Hubs has noticed the change in my wardrobe and questioned it. So I decided to look back at my underwear history and see where I took that turn down Granny Lane.
It definitely was after my wedding day, when my underpants were small and lacy. So lacy in fact, that my bracelet got caught in them in the ladies' room right before the wedding when I went for a quick visit before taking the plunge. So small that I was afraid if I yanked the bracelet free I would rip a crucial bit of lace and they would fall to the floor as I walked down the aisle. So there I was, minutes from my nuptials with my wrist stuck to my drawers, pondering my options. Did I mention there was no one else in the ladies' room? This really is a mental image worth taking the time to conger. A bride, in her beautiful lace A-line gown hiked up around her waist, perched precariously on 3 inch strappy heels with her hand up her skirt, unable to move, perspiration forming on her perfectly made up face, trying desperately to free herself before a search party is deployed to the ladies' room.
It didn't happen during my pregnancy with Baby #1. I pulled on my Sexy Thangs day after day, not minding a little traveling in parts unknown because the waistbands tucked nicely under my bulbous belly and the creepage wasn't nearly as annoying as larger pants rolling down at the waistband.
Then, I was scheduled to deliver Baby #1. One of my BFFs visited me at home to help with a few last minute reorganization of our apartment and happened to notice my opened bag packed for the hospital. Following the list from The Girlfriends Guide to Pregnancy, I had placed a pack of Always UltraThins in my bag, knowing I would need a little "protection" after childbirth. My BFF laughed and laughed. "You don't really think you're going to use THOSE do you?" she asked. I mumbled my reply, "Um, I guess not.", embarrassed by my rookie mistake.
Two days later, I was off to the hospital to welcome M into the world. Anyone who has ever delivered a child naturally or via C-section knows that you don't have a shred of dignity left after the experience. (It's a good thing those babies are so precious as to make this stripping of your dignified-self worthwhile) That's why its so easy to expose my underwear drawer to the world now. Having unloaded my bundle of joy and been wheeled to my own private room, I got my first visit from the nurse. Just when you think you have no dignity left to lose, just know it can always got worse. My nurse was a sweet, sweet woman only doing her job, which I can only describe as one of the worst in the world. She dutifully sprayed my behind with warm water to clean me and then deftly slipped the world's most unsexy underpants on me as I fought to contain the waves of nausea that wracked my post-anesthetic body and tried to move in a way that didn't causing searing pain to rip through my abdomen. Then she put the largest pad I have ever seen into place. I was appalled!! Was that really necessary? She laughed and said to me in her lilting Jamaican accent, "We call these Mommy Diapers. The babies get diapers and so do the mommies!"
I healed from M's birth and went about my life, which included my Sexy Thangs, although some more Grannies were starting to creep into my repertoire. And poof! I got pregnant again. Nothing about pregnancy #2 was comfortable so I experimented with all different types of underpants. Nothing worked so I just dealt with discomfort for several months. There are unpleasant things that happen to a woman when she is pregnant, specifically when she coughs, sneezes or laughs too hard, that she must account for and more coverage than the Sexy Thangs could provide became necessary. I will not go into further detail here because I know everyone knows what I am talking about. And I really do want to leave this post with a teeny tiny bit of my dignity intact.
The day came when C was born. This was also the fateful day that my Sexy Thangs made way in the underpants drawer for the ever growing collection of Granny Panties. Once again, in a most undignified way, I was cleaned by a dutiful nurse performing a most unpleasant of acts. I was once again fitted with giant mesh panties and diapers. But this time there was a difference. In my collection of disposable mesh panties, I found a little treasure...more substantial mesh panties that were so comfortable I debated trying to put them through the wash and use them as regular post-pregnancy underpants. I didn't. Even Zombie Moms have limits.
Looking at the contents of my underwear drawer, I realize that the Grannies have taken over. I am going shopping with a BFF tomorrow. A stop at Victoria's Secret may be in order. After all, there is another date night in my future.
And for those of you still wondering, I yanked the bracelet free from my teeny tiny lace panties, and to my surprise, the pants were very sturdy. It was the bracelet that broke.
