It’s no secret that I’m not actually a fashion diva–or into wearing anything other than my “good” T-shirt or yoga pants when going out in public.
But there are small little things that exemplify the ridiculousness of this situation.
Scene 1: I’m walking across the tiled kitchen floor when I feel a cold spot somewhere on the bottom of my sock. I lift up my foot to make sure I didn’t step in something and notice a hole there instead.
Scene 2: I’m two minutes into a walk when my underwear either suction themselves into a killer wedgie or are too big and sag down instead.
Scene 3: I’m halfway to some ridiculous obligation that requires wearing the world’s most uncomfortable bra, which pretty much describes anything that’s not a sports bra.
In all three scenarios, the logical conclusion to each scene would show me removing said article of clothing and promptly throwing it away. After all, they are uncomfortable and/or old and falling apart. I am not a homeless person and I can afford to buy new socks and underwear and throw the old away.
But I also have a short attention span, so something usually distracts me between “remember to take off those socks and throw them away” and actually taking off the socks and throwing them away. My guess is it’s usually something shiny or that makes a cool noise…
Anyway, the bra is another story.
I have around, oh, one “big girl bra” that I can wear without feeling like a corset is wrapped around my chest.*
*I realize I could go get fitted and get something fancy, but seeing as my concave boobs take up as much real estate as the mosquito bite on my arm, I’m really not willing to pay. Plus, I only have to wear a “real” bra every blue moon.
With that said, I have a handful of bras and underwear in my drawer that serve no purpose. They are uncomfortable, but yet they’re still there and accidentally worn on occasion simply because I forget and, well, they’re still there.
They’re like those people you can’t stand that you haven’t seen for a while. You think, “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they’re not that annoying and I can talk to them without wishing for a Xanax salt lick.”
But then “bam!” Two minutes in you realize you should have told them you had to go detail the cat litter box, or in the case of the underwear, you wish you had simply just thrown them away.
So let this be a cautionary tale to you.
If you have holes in your socks, if the elastic on a pair of underwear you bought in a Hanes six-pack is gone or the bra that you have is causing you to stab yourself in the leg with a butter knife, just throw them away.
Learn from my mistakes.
Don’t be a hero.