Where are the Drawers?

Now there is always the optimism that February is a short month and then we just have to defeat March and spring will be here.  A total myth in Southern Alberta, where winter can pounce on one at any time, in the form of snow, wind and cold weather.

However that may be starting out with a sense of humour is very handy.  Last year I wrote about the mysteries of disappearing laundry and this year I have a tale to tell about disappearing underwear.

I am sure that my family is not unique in having underwear stories although generally folk do not tell tales in public about their underwear.  In my family we have all the peculiarities of having no boundaries when it comes to discuss personal matters, very personal matters.  For the squeamish you may stop reading here and for those with a sense of humour, please read on.

Before embarrassing my family I will reveal all about my own infamous underwear story.  It goes like this, my grandmother for some odd reason decided that my sister and I should have bestowed on us as a Christmas present blue satin bloomers.  These were truly blooming underpants that blossomed out at the waist and then tied around each leg with more elastic (thank God).  Needless to say my sister and I absolutely resisted wearing these preposterous bloomers until one sad afternoon I was forced into wearing them to a Girl Guide evening.  They were very uncomfortable (I think perhaps at this point they might have been a year old, never worn).  Towards the end of the evening we went into Horseshoe Formation for our sing song and as we had guests that evening we also had the lights in the auditorium dimmed.  Just as we were about to sing, snap, my waist elastic popped off and I could feel my satin pants falling down.  Mercifully the leg elastics were intact but now it appeared as though my slip was hanging about 6 inches below my skirt.  What was a girl to do?

This girl, completely flustered, shuffled into the washroom only to discover that she was so distraught she had mistaken the washrooms and was confronted by her first urinal!  Slinking out and hoping no one had seen my I went into the girls’ and there tried to pull the offending bloomers up over my skirt waist, buckle my belt super tight and went back into the auditorium as nonchalantly as I could.

Ah, that should be the end of the evening, but oh no, more was in store for me.  I managed to survive the adios to the parents and closing up.  I was safely on my way home when suddenly I heard the voices of the boy scouts coming home, directly behind me.  Now let it be understood that some of the boys and I had had our moments and being all alone in the pitch dark I panicked.  I started to run down the path forgetting that the construction men had been working on some new homes and suddenly I dropped into a hole, at the same time dropping my underwear again.  The situation was dire, there I was sitting bare-assed in the frozen earth, blind as a bat, waiting for the boys to pass me by and hoping they wouldn’t hear my strangled breath.

God was merciful, off they went never knowing how close they had come to utterly annihilating my dignity.  I gathered myself up, stormed home and told Mom I was never, ever going to wear those disgusting bloomers again!