Tonight as I was gathering my last load from laundromat I was also listening to a conversation between the only other two people in the room.

They were standing right next to the machines I was using so I couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. While eavesdropping I came to the conclusion that it was a date or possibly even a craigslist encounter. It was really awkward. The guy commented on how the woman looked different from her picture. Then they started talking and getting to know each other. Strange thing is that they weren’t doing laundry. I think I saw him take something out of the dryer but then he asked her if she was ready to leave and they walked out. 

I avoided laundry for a few weeks and had no choice but to wear the ugly underwear at the bottom of my drawer. You know what I’m talking about. The ripped lace, the holey cotton, the tacky cherry print thong, the granny panties. None of which say “I am sexy,” “I feel sexy” and most importantly, “sex me, baby”. 

So, as I sorted my laundry and hoped no one would see my god awful panties, I decided that they needed to go. No more snug panties that I never got around to returning, no more faded polka dots, good bye once red now pink thong. I purged my underwear drawer and threw all those disheveled undergarments out. I must admit that it was difficult. I guess I figured having a ridiculous amount of underwear, even ugly underwear, is better than not. Wrong! I want sexy underwear, even when I don’t feel sexy. Especially when I don’t feel sexy

However, I could not and would not throw out the very pair I hate the most and always make fun of: tacky pink booty shorts that have stripped sprawled across the back like a makeshift tramp stamp. Oh yeah, and they were purchased at a Christina Aguilera concert a bazillion years ago

Yes, I kept them. A girl’s gotta remember where she’s been and where she’s goin’.

I finally did my laundry today because I had officially run out of underwear. Last night I had to make a decision between going commando or wearing the very last pair of clean undies: hot pink booty shorts that I had bought about six years ago from a Christina Aguilera concert that has “STRIPPED” written across the ass. 

It’s not slutty if no one saw me wearing them, right?