What a freakin week! And they tell me it’s only Monday.

My mother always cautioned me to wear clean underwear just in case of an accident.  I never totally understood that argument.  Shouldn’t we just wear clean underwear because it’s clean and for no other reason?  She never said wear nice underwear just in case of an accident.  The 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.  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?  

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 have 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?

Wrong.

Mom never warned me to wear nice underwear just in case I have to go to the doctor unexpectedly.  That would have been valuable information!  I could have used that advice this morning when I got dressed. 

I looked perfectly acceptable on the outside, but under my clothes I was hiding a solid week’s worth of leg stubble, and my emergency underwear.  The ones I only wear when I have no clean laundry (or in today’s case, when I don’t feel well and I want to be really, really comfortable.)  They look sort of like I stole them from someone’s grandmother at a retirement home panty raid or something.  I didn’t. They’re mine.  They just aren’t meant for show.  I have other underwear for that.  I need to start keeping an extra pair, a pretty pair, in my purse for emergencies.  My emergency underwear is not meant for THAT kind of emergency.

But in my defense, I went to the doctor for a freaking stomach issue. NOT for my legs, or God knows…my underwear.

And it was a brand new doctor. A brand new, sorta cute (if not a little nerdy, but nerdy can be sexy, right?) doctor. And hey, I’m sure the new doctor has seen worse things than baggy underwear and hairy legs, right?  Sure he has!  Still…it made me think of my mother’s warning about the clean underwear.  I think I will definitely expand upon that warning for my daughters!

Who knew the doctor was going to want to see my legs. Specifically my knee and the still present bruising from my nasty fall a week or so ago. And he was concerned. Not because I hadn’t shaved my legs since said fall…no, he was concerned about the swelling and bruising. And he didn’t even mention the fact that my underwear was, not only hideous, but also inside out. I think he might have laughed when his back was turned though. I had to distract him by mentioning I was having chest pains…so he’d check out my chest too. Because that shit is always at its best. Or so they say. Not like I was trying to pick up my doctor or anything. I wasn’t. Really, honey. If you’re reading, I wasn’t trying to pick up the doctor. I was just trying to…you know…cover for the whole hairy legs, inside out underwear, embarrassment.

I might have failed on that…but at least he says I’ll live.

You know…if I don’t die of embarrassment first.

Until the next time…I’ll be shaving my legs before I go to the dentist. Can’t be too careful!