After posting two recipes on two consecutive days, I received a message from a friend — a nonblogger who has never felt the pressure of NaBloPoMo — in which she accused me of “cheating”. As if recipes weren’t writing. I would argue that mine are.
Normally this accusation would be akin to “fightin’ words”, but she followed up with something along the lines of, “I suppose we’re all entitled to a bad day. I spent mine without panties.” I was intrigued. And hysterical.
Once you’re laughing your ass off and imagining the circumstances whereby your friend was rendered underwearless on a lovely Autumn Saturday, it’s difficult to sustain mild annoyance with her, never mind anger. She never revealed why, exactly, she spent the day without panties, I asked — of course I asked! She got sidetracked discussing other details of her day.
Outside of why she had gone “commando”, I wasn’t all that interested in what else she had been up to. Can you blame me? Would you have been? Because I never did find out, I have had to content myself with a few theories, some of which may or may not be drawn from my own experiences.
They were too small, circulation-constricting small, like, maybe, they belonged to someone else in her house. Someone like her young daughter, perhaps. Wait. She doesn’t have any daughters, so, no, that couldn’t be the reason. At least it couldn’t be HER reason for ditching that pair of ill-fitting Power Puff Girl briefs.
She took them off proactively to avoid the embarrassment that would be the likely result of a wardrobe malfunction. You know, because the elastic was torn around the waistband AND the leg — they were hanging on, in other words, by a wing and a prayer. Perhaps she feared they would unravel altogether and shoot down her pant leg. How would she explain such a thing to the table that she was waiting on? Oh, wait. She’s not a waitress. That must have happened to someone else I know.
She just plum forgot. This, knowing her, is the most likely explanation for her lack of drawers. It’s not that exciting, though. Unless, of course, she was wearing a skirt. Yeah. That makes for a MUCH better story. Trust me. That’s a humdinger of a tale.
A shout out to “Mrs. G” for inspiring this post. If more of my friends are as generous with their embarrassing stories as she was with hers, I may not have to publish any more recipes this month.