I’m outing myself … and simultaneously adding another reason I love being a single mom to the list.
HYUGE Bridget Jones “Hello Mummy” Undies.
Big. Plain. White. Cotton. Underwear. Unapologetically unsexy. Something I wouldn’t have been caught DEAD in when there was a man in the picture. Actually, something I wouldn’t have been caught dead in, period … up until last month, when, purely by accident, I was introduced to the big girl panties goodness that is Hanes.
What I purchased was marketed as ‘boy shorts.’ After getting them home, washed and out of the dryer, it was obvious ‘Granny Panties’ was probably more accurate. I was bummed. I tried them on. I was addicted.
Now, I am dangerous in my ginormous Granny Pants.
In my GPs, I am a rebel. This new rejection of the beautiful and lacy but itchy and maddeningly uncomfortable g-strings of my past – and declaration of love for the plain and simple brings sweet satisfaction. The only one I have to please … is me.
Oh, how I love you, my Granny Pants.
Assimilating easily into my nighttime routine, the GPs are icing on the cake. I can have my hot shower, my wet hair, my face mask. (As in moisturizing. Not hockey. ‘Cause that would be weird. And creepy.) I can have my cold clean sheets and I can pull on my big ’0l Granny Panties and savor an entire bed to myself.
I submit that Granny Panties are the new sexy. (Okay, it was worth a shot.)
I dare you to try ‘em.
Viva La Granny Panties!