Runaway Knickers....

I am on a mission to get rid of superfluous crap. Don’t wear it or use it, off to charity. Failing apart? Trash it. No new clothes, I got enough. Trim it down, live life streamline, that’s the 2010 motto. I have also extended this brilliant philosophy to my life management as well. Streamline your actions too - Why put clothes away, when you will just need them the next day? Why make the bed if you are just going to get back in it and mess it up?

Which brings me to yesterday morning, when I was rummaging around the stack of clean clothes that has mounted to alarming new heights on my sofa, threatening to come tumbling down to the floor should it’s precarious balance be compromised. So, I carefully picked through the pile, impressed with my skill at maintaining the precarious balance of the pile.

Ah, we have success! I managed to extract a pair of clean undies (or knickers, depending on what country you are from) from the pile, without disturbing the balance. Some of the elastic had broken free from the cotton and was hanging down dejectedly. And a closer inspection – the threadbare cotton holes was sporting a few small holes as well. Perhaps I should purchase a few new pairs? But, it is only the 2nd week into January…surely I can’t break my resolution so soon. Besides, it is getting late, I have to dash to work, no time for rummaging around the pile to find another pair, so, instead I clip away the offending elastic and off to the races, we go.


The day plodded on in mind numbing monotony at work. Yet, somehow, the last hour vanished. I glanced at the clock, when did 5:00 get here? I have exactly 15 minutes to make it to the ferry! If I miss it, the next one won’t be there for an eternity – at least 20 minutes, which means I will be late for meeting my friend at the movies.

I jab the elevator key for the fifth time. How does the elevator know when you are going to be late? When you are rummaging around your purse, in search of your elusive badge (which, for some reason, is required to take an elevator ride), the elevator pops up immediately, doors open, impatiently waiting for you to come in and swipe the elusive badge. Yet, when you have badge in hand, with the clock ticking, the elevator is nowhere to be found.

What seemed like hours later, I finally rush out into the heat, the humidity and the crowds of people. At the traffic light, I rudely push my way through the crowd to the curb, angling to first one to cross, giving me access to break free from the crush of people. I stared intently at the light, willing it to change, sweat dripping down my brow and into my eyes. Ding! The light changes, the race begins. I break out into a run, or more like a clump, as I have on high heeled platform shoes (with blue sparkes on it, I might add), and breathe a sigh of relief. If everything continues on track, I might just make it to the ferry on time. When, much to my dismay, I feel something falling down my legs! Oh no, it can’t be, it is! As I am sprinting across the road, in front of rows of traffic, and crowds of people, my underwear is falling off! Which might not be so bad, except that I am wearing a rather short skirt! Whatever possessed me to wear this skirt anyway? I could barely squeeze into it, let alone zip it up all the way, thanks to the fat that has somehow mysteriously appeared, which, upon reflection, was growing at the same alarming rate as the pile of clothes on the sofa. Ah yes, because the skirt compliments the blue platform shoes with the sparkles quite nicely, and damn it, I wanted to wear the shoes.

What to do, what to do? Do I lift up my long shirt, which is conveniently hiding the fact that I can’t zip up the skirt and the big bulge of fat at the top? And then dig way down and pull up the knickers? I can’t do that, I am in the middle of the road, in a sea of people! I grasped my failing knickers through the skirt and pressed them against my legs, then, walked ever so cautiously, keeping my legs as close together as possible, (which turned out to not require any additional effort thanks to the new addition of fat layers which have appeared on my legs as well, the fat from one leg just slaps the other, kind of like giving a high five with each step).

Waiting in the ferry line, I leaned again the divider board, and nonchalantly attempted to sneak my hand down the back of my skirt to grab at the runaway knickers….but, alas, they had already made it half way down to my knees, so, this wasn’t possible.

On boarding the ferry, I locked myself in the restroom and let the knickers roam free! Straight into the rubbish bin! And onward to the new years resolution – if Failing apart? Trash it.