Pardon me for a moment while we step away from our normal topics of low carb foods and adorable cat pictures. I have a story to tell – an embarrassing, hilarious story that hearkens back to my days in college.
First, a little context: as I’ve been losing weight, I’ve been dealing with my wardrobe. I try to not buy new things frequently, because I know I will simply shrink out of them. I’ve had to get some new bras and some new jeans, but I’ve just been wearing the same old (rapidly too large) t-shirts and underwear. I like nice underwear. I bought most of mine around ten years ago, and they were high end undies, which means they’re mostly still in fantastic shape. They used to fit beautifully. But as I shrank, my panties did not, and one day as I was walking through a store I quickly came to the realization that my underwear had slipped off of my ass and was only being held up by my pants.
This is around the same time that I mooned the whole pool at the gym.
Shortly after those incidents, I began buying cheap Wal-Mart panties, and I have not looked back. I will invest in lovely new underwear again when I have stopped losing weight.
Anyway, I was lamenting my old panties on Facebook earlier today. They’re taking up a lot of drawer space and I should just throw them out, but I hate to because I invested quite a bit of money into them, right? First world weight loss problems! Among many reasonable suggestions, one of my friends suggested that I sell them on the internet, following up his statement with “bad idea!” I realized I had absolutely nothing against selling my panties online. Why would I care what they are being used for? Maybe some pervert would pay me a lot of money for them! Then I could put that money towards new quality underwear!
And that made me remember a time that I was actually quite embarrassed about my panties. Oh, how far I have come! Maturity is a fine thing.
I usually only have 2-3 pairs of jeans at any given time. I’m one of those people who will wear a pair for a couple of days in a row. When I get home, I shuck off my work clothes and put on my pajamas. Sometimes I’m lazy and just leave my jeans and underwear laying in a heap on the floor. Don’t judge. You’ve done it before, too.
Usually I remember to shake my jeans out and dislodge my dirty panties and socks. Usually.
One day I was running particularly late to class. I dashed across the quad and made it just in time. The horrible twist to the story is what happened when I was walking back home.
I became aware of an object lying in the middle of the sidewalk. As I grew closer, I realized it was somebody’s panties. I snickered to myself.
Some dumb slut must have lost her underwear doing the walk of shame last night!
Then my inner voice changed. Hey, I think I have a pair of panties that color!
Then I was right on top of them. HOLY SHIT THOSE ARE MY PANTIES WTF!!!!!!
My brain practically shut down. I could feel my face flushing bright red. People were sidestepping the panties and snickering as I had previously been doing.
WHAT DO I DO WHAT DO I DO.
I steeled myself and strode on past.
NO ONE WILL KNOW THEY ARE YOURS. OH MY GOD THEY ARE DIRTY. THOSE ARE YOUR DIRTY PANTIES LYING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE QUAD!!!!!
I had flown into a state of panic, but I made myself walk home. I could feel myself shaking at the shame of it all. I realized quickly that I must have been in such a rush that I didn’t ensure that I tossed yesterday’s underwear into the hamper. Instead, I must have gotten dressed frantically that morning, too tired to realize that when I stuck my legs in my jeans, I was actually pushing soiled goods down into the calf of my comfortable flares. In my mad dash to class, they fell out next to my foot, and I never even noticed.
OH MY GOD I HOPE NO ONE SAW ME DROP MY PANTIES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING QUAD.
I stewed over those panties all day. I imagined what would happen if some nasty boy decided to pick them up and “use them” later. It was a day dream that did not sit well with me. So, I did what any reasonable college co-ed would do.
At two o’clock in the morning, I stealthily drove myself back to campus. I parked next to the now-defunct restaurant 15th & Olive, named for the intersection it sat on. I sat in my darkened car for a few minutes to make sure absolutely no one was out and about. Then I crept over to the last place I’d seen my panties.
They were still there!
I scooped them up and ran back to the car. They went into the trash can as soon as I got home.
And now days, even if I leave my jeans lazily upon the floor, I always scoop out my dirty underwear and deposit them straight into the hamper.