I did my best on International Margaret Day (December 13). That’s the day all good citizens clear out the underpants that are no longer ambulance-worthy from their drawers and replace them with new. I did do a purge. But it’s been a slow process replacing them.
I seem to have come down a size or so since the last great underpants purchase and a lot of the old styles are no longer available. This is uncharted territory. Literally: there are no helpful size charts available in the stores. There are racks of panties with numbers on them, but no explanation of which number refers to what ass. There’s no relationship to dress size, trousers size, or hat size. You’re just supposed to know your underwear size, like you know your favorite color. I decided to try out something in my current number, minus one.
Young women, of course, are more inclined to embrace the thong (although not with their arms). The thong is for women who don’t really like underpants but sort of miss the wedgie. This option was out of the question for me. I know this because my friend Gina once got a gift thong from her daughter. They don’t sell these in the seniors department, but, she thought, what the hell–she went in the bathroom and put it on and looked in the mirror and zzipp took it off. Then she offered it to me. I also tried it on, looked in the mirror, and zzipp took it off. And gave it to Goodwill. That sounds bad, but it’s not.
Because the Five Nanosecond Rule totally applies to underwear.
I may be sorry that my old style is no longer a thing, but I have never been truly satisfied with the old style, either. They’re fine, as far as they go–which is a lot farther than the new ones–but they have seams along the sides, plus, for no good reason whatsoever, a tag. I’ve been wearing them inside out for years because I’m kind of a princess about those seams and tags. They’re cotton, of course. We all grew up knowing you had to have cotton, or the feminine hygiene crisis fairy would pay you a visit. And yet, here were racks of non-cotton underpants. I pulled one out.
They looked like they’d be snug on a toddler. Miracle fabric, indeed. Still, the size was theoretically right, and there were no seams or tags. They were advertised as a “boyshort,” which meant they had tiny little inseams–maybe a quarter of an inch–and I took that to mean they might offer a modicum of Coverage, in spite of appearances. I brought them home for a trial.
The fabric stretched miraculously. It’s what Jesus would have used if hundreds of people showed up needing underpants and he only had the one. And it was wonderfully comfortable, but the tiny inseams were a bluff. These panties did not even pretend to full Coverage. There was quite a lot of Underage, in fact. The miracle fabric was a solid band marching horizontally across my rear. They were the United States across my North America. But without the Florida. I don’t have a Florida.
I did love the seamless fabric, though. I’m taking a few different styles for a trial run. Some are better than others, but in general I sense a real unwillingness on the part of the manufacturers to even attempt to cover the area in question. Fashions change, I know that, but look: if you want to keep your head warm all winter, you don’t wear a yarmulke.
I stopped to think about just why I need underpants at all. For most of my life, my underpants were a sort of drip pan. They were there mainly to keep the gravy on the plate and off the tablecloth. But I’m old now, and that really cuts down on the gravy. I think I could manage without, and not be unduly burdened come laundry day.
But I’ll probably end up settling on something. You still need something to intervene in case your pants decide to take up spelunking.
At the risk of TMI, menopause obviated the need for underpants for me, so I no longer wear them. They are some quaint artifact from days of yore, like the bustle. I don't even own a pair anymore. I don't have to concern myself with those horribly uncomfortable tags, with bunching of fabric under my straight-leg jeans, or with visible panty-lines. It's quite liberating. As Kramer would say, "I'm out there, Jerry, and I'm LOVIN' it!"
Not TMI, but JEI. And now I have Kramer's voice in my head! So…it isn't just me, with those tags?
I could not go commando because the harsh crotch of pants like jeans and corduroys is not comfortable. Plus I would feel the need to wash them after every wearing. I bought a bunch of new pants and they seem to be fine for now, except I am moving more into the granny pants area.
That granny pants area is right accommodating. Slide on in.
Even though man underwear has its issues and inconsistencies. Glad I don't have to make these decisions often.
My uncle and aunt spent a couple of years in Cuba in the sixties and when they came to visit they would always take back a suitcase of women's underwear for the Cuban women they knew. The only thing available there at the time was generic boxers for men and women.
"Honey, while you're there, could you pick up some cigars, some rum, and some underpants?"
Those new "miracle" fabrics? Found out the hard way that I'm allergic to them. Back to cotton.
Oh BUMMER! Because I am a new fan. I might start a whole new religion on that miracle.
Don't worry, the next step is Depends anyhow 🙂
Shet yore mouth.
So how did you manage to buck the trend and become the incredible shrinking Murr?
Underpants are bad, but bras are worse. And finding cotton ones in a sufficiently generous size is akin to the search for the holy grail…
Well the LAST couple pounds went to the Flu Fairy, but I've been slowly shrinking since I went off wheat. Seems to have permanently changed my appetite so that I now want a LITTLE too much food, whereas before I wanted a LOT too much food. It's been really easy.
Don't really want to send invitations to Flu Fairies, but I will give your wheat-free advice a try.Not allergic to it, but today's wheat flour is not the stuff my gut was raised on.
And I converted to micro fibre a few years ago.Not as part of my diet, you understand.Apparel-type fibre.
Last time I bought new undies, there were no tags…just a stamp on the back with the name or size or something on it. And I love them. But I'm at work and cannot check to see just what they are, or I'd be happy to share the info with you. I think they may be that miracle fabric you mentioned. And I'm with Tabor…my days of going without panties are over. I chap. And chafe. And it isn't the fun frisky devil-may-care thing it used to be.
THAT'S WHAT I GOT! JUST YESTERDAY! WHILE DAVE AND I WERE TAKING UNDERPANTS PHOTOS IN THE STORE! This just in. Perfect underpants for the first time in my life. They're Balis, they're miracle fabric, there are no seams and no tags, and they feel like nothing. Love love love.
and I'll bet you a whole dollar they're not available in Australia.
I was all set to give you my golden advice to get microfiber underpants In whatever style suits your fancy but see you' ex figured it out on you own. I can wear any brand of microfiber while sitting all day without feeling the cotton weave cut into my skin. But you need to add the Baili bra that you can't feel while on, which gives great support, doesn't get all nasty when you sweat, and which I just leave fastened and pull on over my head, since I can't fasten it behind my back. Here's a picture. http://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/B00M1GENSG/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o05_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1
The Underpants Maven at the store showed me that very bra, but I didn't feel like trying anything on, so I got my underpants and left. And I LOVE THEM!
I had a favorite style that I wore for years, and then the manufacturer changed from "Made in USA" to "Made Somewhere in Southeast Asia", and redesigned them to use less fabric and fewer seams–cheaper and faster to make. (The price was still the same, of course.) The result was a seam that landed just where *I* landed when I sat down. Fortunately, after trying unsuccessfully to find a satisfactory substitute, I discovered that the old ones still worked if I wore them inside-out. But I'd still like to give a major wedgie to whoever was responsible for the redesign!
If you ever find something you like, get a million of them. Screw seams.
I get rid of undies when I put them on and they drop right to the floor. Yep, elastic shot. I have not seen undies as big as the second pair you display. You could stuff a lot of things in them!
You need to take International Margaret Day more seriously. Start tossing.
As one of the Princess and the Pea persuasion, I am 100% with you about not going commando, hating seams, lables and anything of the poking-scratching ilk. I also hate the elastic on the beachball syndrome, where your smalls gather themselves into a roll and head south faster than a Snowbird in January. I don't know if we can get those microfibre doodads north of the 49th but in the era of on-line shopping, I just might be joining you if they come in Size Tubby Senior Citizen.
I even occasionally get something where I swear there's a splinter in the underwear–or, recently, in a t-shirt. And I can feel it. Just not with my hands. Or see it with my eyes. But it's there. Jeez, where's my glass slippers?
If the 'splinter' is anywhere in the seams region, look for nylon thread. It's cheap and clear, so many manufacturers use it. The trouble comes once you wash and dry the item, with machine drying the snipped ends of threads become hard and scratchy and being clear, are almost impossible to see. ditto that thin strip of clear plastic under the stitches in shoulder seams of cheap (sometimes not cheap) t shirts.
I recently did a purge, too, and I still have about 50 pair. I get them from my cousin at Christmas whether I need them or not. Size 4, of course. 😉
Of course!!! Fifty? I'd never get a laundry done.
"…They were the United States across my North America. But without the Florida. I don't have a Florida." ROFL!
Thank you. Thank you very much.
That picture with the big white granny pants had me hysterical. Really! I doubled over laughing and almost fell off my chair!
I don't care how old I get, as long as jeans and shorts have crotch seams, I'll be wearing underpants. I might research a few new styles though. What I've got isn't as comfortable anymore.
For most women, as they age, it's a different kind of gravy. And, no, that thong thing just is outa the question.
There were those decades when the french cut high-rise panties were tres chic, and I couldn't find a decent bikini cut panty anywhere. I resorted to granny panties rolled down. Now, Costco is my lingerie shop.