Personal

There are two types of people in this world: the ones who wear real clothes at home, and the ones that strip down the minute they walk through the door and throw on pjs or some other comfy get-up. I, myself, am the second type of person. I don’t trust you if you’re watching TV or folding laundry in jeans – something isn’t right with you. I prioritize comfort, and why shouldn’t I? I’m an adult. I pay taxes. I make sure my kids are fed, clothed, and don’t die. I deserve to be comfortable. I have earned the right to wear ratty, old AF clothes around my house whenever I want-and I want to always.

Here’s the part when I tell you the real topic I’d like to discuss, and it’s not pajamas. If you’re an unmarried man reading this right now, you’re about to be let in on the secret. Most husbands know what I’m about to tell you, even if it hasn’t been discussed out loud. Women across the world know what I’m talking about – whether they’ll admit to it or not. My husband and I discuss it all of the time, rather he tolerates the bizarre amount of time that I enjoy talking about it.

I’m sure by now it’s become clear, but for those of you that are still unsure, here’s the secret. Us ladies? We all have a favorite pair of underwear, and they ain’t pretty.

As a comfort seeker, my desire for physical peace reaches far beyond pajamas and leggings. My lady parts want to be comfortable, too! It wasn’t until a few years ago that I recognized my particular affection for certain undies. One night while getting ready for bed I found myself giddy when I opened my dresser drawer to see that a specific pair of panties sitting there. I knew, in that moment, that I was about to sleep SO GOOD! After that night I began to pay more attention to which underwear I was wearing to bed. There are 4 pair of undies, all from the same original pack, that are my absolute fave. I call them my C-section panties. I got them before I had my first child, who turns eight this year. She wasn’t actually a c-section baby, however, when packing for the hospital I remembered a friend of mine telling me about her husband having to buy her these hideously ugly granny panties after she had her son because she needed something big enough to come up above her incision as not to irritate it. (Thus, the nickname: C-section Panties.) I thought that jumbo undies sounded like a good idea, it was my first kid and I was overpreparing.

Those 4 pair of underwear have been through so much with me. Over 7 years!! They’re practically family, but I don’t want to be dramatic, so I’ll just say that we’re close. When I open my drawer and see one of them waiting for me, clean… soft… falling apart at the seams…I know it’s going to be a great night. I even made up a little jingle about them “🎢I’ve got my C-section pannays🎢” – you’d have to hear it in person to appreciate it.

If my kids are smart they’ll start to pick up on the situation and use it to their advantage. I’m in a far better mood when I have on my CSPs. “What color underwear is Mom wearing?” “The green ones with the bleach stains and hole on the right butt cheek.” “Nice! Let’s ask her if we can get tattoos!!”

I do want to say that none of them actually have holes in them… I’m not an animal. They’re close, but not quite yet.

So ladies, I’ll leave you with this, my wish for women everywhere: I hope you’re able to wear your favorite undies tonight, you know the ones. xoxo, Layne