Since candy and education are so controversial (who knew?), let’s talk about the clothing that women wear under their clothes. It had been more than four years since I bought new under the clothes clothing for my bottom half. The situation was getting to the point that it would be very embarrassing if I was in an accident. I took advantage of an online bargain and ordered a few pairs late one night while staring at my computer. Even though I ordered from a store that is in the mall down the road, it took almost three weeks for the few teeny pieces of fabric and elastic to arrive. When I say teeny, I mean that in the four years since I last bought this exact same size and style, the actual pattern has changed so that there truly is less fabric. Oddly, the new style fits better than the old style, it just took some time to adjust to the new cut. I was caught off-guard by the pair that was named “large blue rose” that should have been named “covered in GLITTER” to warn the buyer. The vaglitter result is not a good look for middle-aged moms.

The under the clothes clothing for my upper half was an equally dire situation. For the past two years I have only had one of these items that are worn daily. The wires escaped from all of the others and without the wires, they were pretty pointless. So, the past two years have been spent standing beside the dryer waiting for it to finish drying that item or running around the house trying to find the item, as it apparently has some kind of invisibility power. Unfortunately, it didn’t have any cloaking or reduction abilities when it was on my body. It did have straps that were constantly trying to sneak down my arms to, I don’t know, maybe they wanted to join the missing wires. Aaaaanyway, I had a few pairs of new lower items, so I determined that I would find one new upper item.

I went in the mall to the store where big girls go to buy their underoos and filled my arms with one of every kind in the hopes that something would fit. The burly dressing room guard stopped me. No. The size ZERO, cheerful, twenty-something blocked my path. “When was the last time you were fitted?” The honest answer to that question would have been never, but I politely said “a while” and before the words were finished, I was accosted by a tape measure. Actually, it was a quick and painless measure once, measure twice and then she looked at the pile of potential purchases in my hands. “Ohhh, those are WAY too big for you. You need two sizes smaller. I’ll be right back!” If she hadn’t raced away so quickly, she would have felt the burn of my evil death ray eyes. Smaller? Grrr. She was back much too quickly with only three items. Determined to prove her wrong, I tried one on and rang the bell that brought her back to my oddly lit dressing room. “Oops. You need a double d instead of a single. Be right back.” My ego lifted slightly at the prospect of something that sounded like an improvement over the two number sizes smaller. When I tried the double letter item on, I shouted instead of pushing the button. “It fits!”

It may be pathetic, but I walked out of that dressing room clutching that wonderful under the clothing item of clothing like it was a Gold medal that I had just won in the Underwear Olympiad. Now that I have rediscovered the thrill of new, properly fitting, under the clothes clothing, I want to find some that MATCH. Hold the glitter.