I’m standing in a friend’s kitchen, waving my arms above my head as though I were pretending to be an underwater plant or a high-speed cat tail. I’m not being either of those.
I’m being the crotch of my underwear.
My friend informs me that some magazine says that a lady ought to replace her underwear every three years. I’m willing to bet that said magazine was Cosmo. Then again, Cosmo also recently claimed that a good way to spice up one’s sex life was to wear one’s thong as a scrunchie.
PS: That’s sort of gross.
PPS: WHY ARE YOU WEARING A SCRUNCHIE?
Things like that make me picture some poor writer, fresh out of Yale, getting her first job in writing. Her editor, who looks like Devil Wears Prada Meryl Streep, plops down a stack of back issues, has her read all of the “____ ways to spice up your sex life” articles, and then demands she think of something new.
She feels her face flush with anger at the injustice of the job market and then sarcastically suggests thong scrunchies. She expects to be fired for her insolence. Instead, she is promoted.
Anyway. The underwear.
Guys get a bad rap for wearing their underwear until it falls apart, but I’m here to tell you that women are just as bad. The underwear life cycle goes a little something like this:
1. “Whee! Look at my sexy new underwear! Hey, boyfriend, check out my butt!”
2. “The elastic’s starting to give up on life. I guess these should go into the ‘period drawers’ category.”
3. “Oh, who am I kidding? These don’t even have enough life to properly position feminine hygiene products.”
4. “Fine. But only when I’m sure no one will see.”
Then, one day, you hit step 5. You go to pee and realize that you can see the floor through a tiny hole in the front. The cotton crotch is in bits, dangling separately from the satiny part. There are only two choices at this stage:
1. Throw the underwear away
2. Wear the underwear as a scrunchie
I assume you know what to do. Unless you work at Cosmo.