Holes, those comfy holes

Posted on March 8, 2013 

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I had a crotchial blowout on Monday. I'm not sure what happened. I just picked them up and there was a huge hole. Perhaps I saw it coming and just didn't want to accept it. They are so special to me. They’re my favorite drawers. They’re comfortable. They don’t bind me at all. I feel so free in them. The elastic is just right – loose enough not to leave a mark, tight enough to grip even on a man with a derriere deficit.

I don’t understand. I remember buying these boxers when I got married. I thought I needed some underwear without holes in them. And now look what happened. Only 18 years old. They just don’t make things like they used to.

I asked my mom to patch the hole, but she refused. Something about stitching not working on rotten material. What if we’d have given up on her at age 18? We didn’t throw in the towel just because she’s aging!

I thought about taking them to the tailor, she hems all of my dress pants. There is a language barrier though, and I was afraid she’d think I was getting fresh. Plus, her husband is big, and I was afraid if I handed his wife my underwear he’d hit me.

I just like comfortable clothes.

This is my favorite t-shirt. Lisa forbade me to wear it. She told me if she caught me in it she would throw it away.

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Can wives do that? Throw your stuff away even if you still need it?

I’m not sure, but I was too afraid to call her bluff. I thought about putting it on to run a couple of errands and then keeping it in my briefcase so that there was little chance that she could toss it without my knowledge. But that just seemed too cumbersome. I did hang it on the back of the closet door right beside her robe. It was sort of a warning: Don’t mess with me … I’m a man. I can put it on if I want.

And then, as I was putting on my favorite lounging pants this morning, my foot got stuck in the small hole I’d worn in the knee – rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiippppppppppppppppp.

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Dag gone. I was gonna keep the boxers and wear them with those pants – the pinnacle of comfort. But now I’m afraid there is just too little material and too much Danny.

Seriously, I put those three articles of clothing on and it’s like warm milk from your mama. It just feels right. That ensemble is more comfortable than being naked.

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