Living Retired — ‘Underwear Gets A Bum Wrap’
Living Retired – ‘Underwear Gets A Bum Wrap’
The other evening Jan began musing about all the things she has been missing since Covid-19 turned everything topsy turvy.
“Gary, I miss going out to concerts and movies and getting together with our friends and granddaughters. We have cancelled our trip to Ireland with Ted and Bettyann not once, but twice.”
Hmm. I got thinking about other things that have been crimped by Covid. “You are absolutely right Dear. I miss going out to buy new underwear.”
“Gary, there you go again. I was being serious.”
“Jan, don’t get your knickers in a knot.”
So, with that I set out to write this weeks Living Retired column that will mention my unmentionables. Jan was quick to read my mind, “Gary, nobody is interested in a long dissertation about your underwear.”
“Don’t worry Dear. I will be ‘brief.’”
Truthfully, I do not need new underwear. Rather, I would like new underwear. I have lots of underwear in my sock drawer where I keep my underwear. Or is it my underwear drawer where I stash my socks?
I am not being a smarty pants but after almost two friggin’ years of baking sourdough bread ad nauseum during Covid Couple Confinement, replenishing my underwear has not been top of mind – hey at my age it is barely middle of my waist!
Before you could say ‘boxers or briefs?’ I was out shopping for underwear. If only the choice was between boxers and briefs. Nowadays, there is something called ‘midway briefs’ – which poses a problem for older men whose midway has sagged down to their surgically-repaired knees!
“Jan, would you like to see me in a thong or how about a string bikini?” Eventually her spasm of laughter subsided, “For you Gary, a L.L. Bean sleeping bag would fit like a glove.”
I remember when men’s underwear packaging promoted ‘100% cotton. Machine Wash.’ Nowadays, it is a photograph of a male model you would expect to see on the cover of a Harlequin romance novel. Instead of showing his flowing shoulder-length hair, he is strutting the latest ‘Cool cotton, Breathable briefs.’ Note to Hanes, Jockey, Calvin Klein, Stanfield, Bench, and Saxx: show me a model who speaks to my demographic – Foster Brooks!
Something else I noticed. All the underwear has the manufacturers brand name inscribed in big bold letters across the waist band. Do you think the next time I bend over to tighten the toilet flange that I want you to see that I wear Fruit of the Loom?
This is not my first underwear undoing. A few years ago, we were in Paris France. In the hotel room unpacking our luggage I realized we – that is ‘the ‘royal we’ – did not pack my underwear.
“Je suis mon lingerie, Jan.”
“Gary, what on earth do you mean? You just said, “I am my underwear?’” How much Gravol did you take on the flight?”
“Un petite quantite, Jan. J’ai bu ours.”
“Gary, now you said, “You drank bears!” You mean beer. Knock off the French. Speak English!”
Faster than I could say “Pisser dans un violin” which is French for ‘piss in a violin’ – an expression in my French translation book! – we were strolling The Champs-Elysees shopping for underwear. I still have the underwear we purchased, along with one of those pashmina scarfs you see stylish French men wrap around their neck. It comes in handy when I wash my Jeep.
In the end, underwear is like knowledge: you need to have it, but you don’t need to show it. Jan agreed, “C’est la vie.”
Its all Greek to me so I am bummed.
