You know what’s hilarious? The last three packages of underwear I have bought have been the wrong damn type.
Yes, I do buy my underwear in packages, not on velvet-covered hangers. My rump just isn’t special enough for that treatment. It causes me too much trouble to get special treats. So I get Hanes and my butt better like it or else.
So why do I keep getting the wrong kind? Well because I keep shopping with my children. They distract me. Now the boy is 12 ½, and isn’t thrilled to be in that section at all. Not that I can blame him.
But girlchild? She’s my little comedian with a very large sense of empathy, which makes for some interesting jokes. So I drive my cart over the delicates and I just want to get panties that are normal colors and are not two sizes too small. Yes, I have done that in the recent past as well. Get the small size, realize it after I open the stupid package and squeeze the jiggler into them anyway. I walk around with my butt cheeks squeaking tighter out of spite for my own stupidity. Then I wash those suckers. And after my special treatment? They are even smaller.
But I’m stubborn and a bit cheap when it comes to undies. So I cram my business in there anyway. And then I proceed to slowly strangle my legs to death because the leg holes are like rubber bands holding the Sunday paper together. Then you squat down to get a pan out of a cabinet and the *** end of the drawers burst open. That’s fun.
But this time I was trying to concentrate. I had the right size, now I had to find a cut that would be acceptable in a car accident. That’s when girlchild’s musings about the girls modeling the undies become voiced loudly in the Target.
“Mom, why would someone do this to these girls? They look like they really want some clothes.” I try to shoosh her. I praise myself for avoiding the geometric shaped 1980 ‘s colored ones. (Why for pete’s bananas are they still making this fabric and wrapping it around our rumps? Not once has this pattern been useful under white pants nor does it make all the boys want to come to the yard for milkshakes.)
“I think this one is pregnant. Poor thing. Look mom, she’s almost naked!”
Okay, okay, I grab my size and toss it in the cart filled with back to school stuff. (boo-hiss)
We finally get home and six million chores later, I’m done with my shower and ready to indulge in the first pair of undies. And yes I know you are supposed to wash them first, but I’m a wild risk taker. Plus, I already eat hot dogs. What could be worse than that?
It is sort of like a little business card from God when you crack into the package like an egg. I shake out a pale pink color. Then I shake some more.
The panties unfurl like a flag. A really big flag. Damnit.
I take another look at the girl on the cover who I tossed so quickly into the cart to preserve her dignity. She is wearing some seriously monster sized drawers.
Optimistically, I’m hoping she is on the short size. Cause let’s be honest, they aren’t getting a-list models for those Hanes shoots.
I stuff my big meaty sticks into the holes and ease those frickers up. By the time I have them in the correct position, the panties easily cover my belly button. Somehow, they still also hang like long Bermuda shorts.
I frown. I have bought the big panties again. Yes I’ve done it before and because I suck? I’ll do it again.
I put my shorts on. The underwear are coming out the top. Luckily they didn’t hang out the bottom too.
Anyway. Back to Disney. We’re packed up and take our drive through Okkahumpa, which is just flat out a hilarious name for a rest stop.
Things started getting bigger, as they tend to do in Orlando. We start to recognize the landscape. Then we are waiting with baited breath for the purple road signs. Because Mickey is so cool he changes ROAD signs. Amazing.
Following the sign that says “Disney World” feels like pure decadence, doesn’t it? Just slapping Disney on anything makes it more special, but to head your van with purpose towards that crazy sign is just fantastic.
Then we all shout at each other and start to point as the familiar shapes that start peeking over trees. We are headed to POP and I’m excited.
Finally we pull into the check-in parking. Pop did a good job of staying put until I got back. We walked into the lobby and it was packed! I think eight buses and fourteen planes had just landed. The kids, who have memories like elephants, want to head to the waiting room with the TV that they remember from when they were so much smaller. So, as the hubby finds the online check-in, we squeeze ourselves into the cushion filled space.
The people around us are not overwhelmed. They have been in Disney long enough that the magic has become commonplace. The hidden Mickey’s aren’t being noted anymore. But we are high on the Disney. The little touches, the hearty furniture. Soon the Mr. has the folder and we were approved for early check in.
And by early, I mean early. 10:30 am! That’s like getting a whole extra day. We clamor back into the van and follow the map to our building.
We were being housed in the Rubix Cube building. The 80’s had come to life all around us. When first finding our second story room, we go the long way. We only make this mistake once. We wait outside and scan the key card. The door cracks open and now we have real estate for a few days. And if that doesn’t make you feel like you can fart a symphony, I’m not sure what will.
The room has been changed! The Mr. knew to expect the room renovations, but I did not. There were new bedspreads and wallpaper! In the bathroom where the décor was horrific gender-neutral old people in various screams, there was something else! I’m not even sure what it actually was but when I was up late at night pooping, I didn’t feel like I had a mocking audience.
Stacey, the ever-present Disney channel talker chick, is still doing her spiel. A few things she says are new, but mostly the comforting same ol’ same ol’ was on the TV like we had just left a few minutes ago from our last vacation.
Finally all the bags were in and I began my ritual unpacking. There’s the over the door shoe holder that I stick all of our nonsense in, the painted shirts that I hang on the hangers. All of it.
Because we are there. We decorate the window, line up the shoes and then it is time to decide how to spend our day. With no tickets for today we have two choices, pool time or Downtown Disney!
Up next…what choice do we make?