Granny Panties

I went to the store a couple of weeks ago to buy new undies for when I exercise.  Who knew that buying underwear was such a big deal?  So many choices.  Hipsters...briefs...bikinis...boy shorts...French cut.  Ahhhh!  Underwear overload!  What happened to just "wedgie-free underwear"?  I picked up a 3-pack of ladies underwear and looked at the size chart on the back of the package.  Once again, very confusing.  Why can't they size underwear like they do clothes?  And maybe they do, but these underwear were sized slightly different.  Of course as I'm looking at the underwear and various sizes I was thinking, "Is my butt really that big?"  When you hold up a pair of undies they often look much larger than you would expect.  Kind of depressing actually.  But after flipping back and forth from the larger size to the smaller size, I remembered a great piece of advice given to me by my sister-in-law.  She said, "When buying underwear be generous."  Smart woman she is.  Because who wants to be exercising with a constant wedgie (or as I use to call it in my younger days, a Melvin)?  Not me.  In the short time I've been running a Melvin is the least of my worries.  By the time I make it to mile 4 I'm just concentrating on not peeing my pants before I get home and by the time I hit mile 5 I'm more concerned about the chaffing of my inner thighs.  Needless to say I brought my new undies home, hid them from my husband to avoid further humiliation and saved them for my "breaking in my new underwear" run.  Today was the day.  It was a glorious day.  And let me just tell you that although unattractive and somewhat large, there was no Melvin on my run this morning.  My undies are very comfortable.  After my run as I got home and prepared to hit the shower I was for the first time aware of how high my underwear really sat on my waist (or should I say torso?).  I remember when I was younger and would tuck in my shirts too tight and my mom or sisters would tell me to "blouse" my shirt or pull it out a bit.  In an opposite kind of way, that's what my granny panties looked like blooming out of my waistline this morning.  I was reminded of when I was in high school and was invited to go to a dance.  The boy had asked me in a very clever manner so in return I purchased the largest pair of women's briefs I could find at the store.  They were huge!  I attached a note to the underwear that read, "I'll be brief," and then wrote, "YES" on the butt of the undies as my response to his invitation.  So sad that I now wear the same huge granny panties that I so hideously despised only 12 years ago.  Ouch!  What is it they say about comfort and fashion?  That they don't go together?  All I know is that not only do my new undies repel wedgies but they also repel my husband.  Happy running!