The first day of school. Oh, how I long for those days of innocence anticipation, leaving behind the summer chores and hunkering down for ten months of learning, spelling bees, National Geographic magazines and hanging out. We’d be kitted out in new socks and shoes along with fresh hair ribbons, a cartoon tin lunchbox and a wooden pencil case. Back then, the schools supplied all of the paper and pencils and books.
Today, though, instead of golden sunlight and a haze of dust floating above the tar and gravel country road, we were treated to pounding rain, teasing glances of sunlight and sullen skies filled with dull clouds. I had an iPod stuffed with new books but there was no way I was heading out for a 45 minute walk and risking coming back to work looking like a drowned rat.
In memory of school, I decided to drive to the nearest Winners and find some new underwear. The store wasn’t that busy. Staff were furiously stocking the racks. There wasn’t a sign of summer clothes, just dull fall and winter togs. As I strolled the aisles, I was thankful that I’ve gone back to sewing my clothes. Everything I saw was so boring and ugly. I’ve reached the stage of my life when I want c-o-l-o-u-r. Bright tones, nice fabrics and innovative designs that fit properly.
I found colour on the underwear racks. Row upon row of frilly strings and lace confections, animal prints, mini-boxers, bikinis, thongs and body shapers jammed hanger-to-hanger on four long poles. The display reminded me of a box of licorice all-sorts. Sizes from x-small to xxx-large. No bum left uncovered. Not a lot of black. I knew I didn’t want granny panties. Just some simple French cuts that won’t show a nasty line under form fitting clothing. But there was almost too much choice.
Because I needed to up my step count, I did a lot of pacing up and down the aisles as I selected two pairs (aqua and cherry pink) with lace around the waist, a couple of sturdy black microfibre jobbies and some leopard print low-cuts. I paused for a few minutes, first taking some photos then wondering why an undergarment that goes over my legs and covers my bum is called a ‘pair’ or underpants. Is it because the fabric covers two butt cheeks?
Then I wondered what the guy monitoring the security cameras thought when he spied me lurking. I was comforted that I didn’t look as pervy as the guys who troll the lingerie aisles fingering the merchandise as they search for items for their ‘ladies’.