My daughter was in a car accident today. Before you get all worried, she’s fine. The car, not so much, but cars are just things, and my daughter is more important than a car. Even if we did just buy it, and only got the tags on it yesterday…but priorities aside, I just realized forgot to ask her the most important question after such a catastrophic event.
Was she wearing clean underwear?
My mother always cautioned me to wear clean underwear just in case of an accident. I never totally understood the argument. Shouldn’t we wear clean underwear simply because it’s clean and for no other reason? She never said wear nice underwear just in case of an accident. In retrospect, it wouldn’t have been bad advice. But that’s not what she said. Her only criteria was that it had to be clean. Now, just for the record, my underwear is always clean (although frequently inside out) but I won’t say that I always wear the nicest pair. Depending on the day (and the laundry schedule) I’ve been known to wear relatively unattractive underwear on occasion. This trait is, again, something I inherited from my mother…a recessive gene for bad fashion that shows up in the most inopportune moments. I know it’s hard to believe that my underwear isn’t black lace trimmed in hot pink fur, but we can’t be sexy everyday can we? Sure, it would be ideal, but hardly realistic.
The truth is, I’ve never been overly concerned about accidents and underwear because, I know for a fact that you can absolutely fall hard enough, or in the right way, to tear your underwear. I’ve unfortunately done it. So with that in mind, I figured if I was ever in an accident, I would just blame the condition of my underwear on the impact. Problem solved, right?
Mom never warned me to wear nice underwear just in case I have to go to the doctor unexpectedly. That would’ve been valuable information. In fact, I could’ve used that advice on more than one occasion. All too often, I’m caught wearing the emergency undies, the ones I only wear when I have no clean laundry or don’t feel well. They look sort of like the dog gnawed on them after years of wash and wear. But at least they’re clean. Mom would be proud.
Still…I should have done a better job making sure my girls know the importance of clean underwear in case of emergency. For all I know, Lauren was wearing her boyfriend’s gay brother’s underwear again. (That’s the favorite brother by the way, and not just because he’s willing to share his underwear, either.) But I guess as long as his Fruit of the Looms are clean, she followed the rule. And they’re probably still sexier than my laundry day panties.
Maybe I should start wearing Mike’s underwear on laundry day.
Or maybe I should just go shopping.
Until the next time…I’ll be going to Victoria’s Secret online.