Sometimes you gotta do stuff you don’t particularly want to do. For my ninth grader, it’s shopping for underwear with her father.
I don’t rotate mine as often as I should. I just get so attached to them.
Perhaps it is my bad example that puts us in the panty pinch. I have a specific test for tossing my intimates. When jogging, it sometimes feels like my shorts are falling off. If I look down and my pants are intact, I realize it’s my boxers that have gone south underneath my sweats. Although preferable to the alternative, I’d rather the inner layer slide down while running down Ridge Road than the outer, this sensation is my signal: this pair must go. Elastic is such an important part of the underpant.
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Stephanie came to me last weekend with an urgent need for an undie upgrade. She reluctantly chose to hit the mall immediately, rather than wait for her aunt or another viable female to schedule a trip.
As we walked through the doors of Crabtree Valley Mall at 8 PM on a Tuesday night, she grabbed my hand, “It is so embarrassing to do this with your dad. I so hope I don’t see anyone I know.”
“There are other things I’d rather be doing too, like digging or welding. But baby, we’re just making memories. Twenty years from now we’ll remember this night – our first trip to Victoria’s Secret.”
They had a sale, 5 pair for $27. Finding her size and the style she liked was a challenge. Although there seemed to be designated slots for each type, it looked like an underwear tornado had touched down on that table. They were all mixed together. It was like trying to find a specific pea in a crock pot of vegetable soup.
Men’s boxers are in packages, sized by waist. Women’s aren’t. Some mediums would have barely fit over my head (no, I didn’t try). Others would have fit William Howard Taft.
“Stephanie, I think you need to try these on – we need a baseline.”
You’d have thought I’d suggested she run naked through the store.
“Dad. I’m NOT trying on underwear at the store!”
I held each pair up, opening the waist to see if I thought It would fit. In the end we bought ten.
I actually cherish these moments – the ones that other dads don’t get to experience. They’re awkward, uncomfortable, funny… and beautiful.