Pantywaist

I realize that I have touched on the topic of underpants more than once recently, but I do feel that it is such a rich topic that it bears further exploration. I had another panties-related epiphany today.

About ten years ago I had a girlfriend (yes, that kind of girlfriend) who insisted on wearing underpants that matched the rest of her outfit. I considered this to be one of her reasonably lovable quirks (I was young and tolerant), although it could be more than a little annoying when this quirk caused her to take two hours to get dressed and ready to go.

White t-shirt, pink cardigan, and jeans? This could call for white, pink, or blue undies. Of course she was happiest if she could find a pair of stripeys that incorporated all these colors. Then her little heart would sing for gladness.

Now mind you, this was not some girly clothes horse we are talking about here. She did most of her shopping at the Salvation Army (“Sal’s Boutique” as she called it), and was prone to wearing seriously farmhand-inspired ensembles. You know, lots of Carhartt. But oh my god, if Carhartt had made underpants…

Today I have realized that she might well have been onto something. Although my particular brand of OCD doesn’t cause me to stand naked before the mirror every morning, unable to put on a scrap of clothing until I had determined what part of the color wheel the day’s astrological portents favor, I can see the charm in skin-up coordination.

I mean, if I were to somehow find myself in the middle of a game of strip poker today, losing, of course, I would at no point have to fear clashing just because of an inside straight. Now that’s confidence.

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