Tuesday, December 27, 2011


My Underwear - Not My Abs.
Of all the gifts I receive at Christmas, there is one that is perpetually my favorite.

New Underwear.

Every year I get a couple new packs of underwear in my stocking - it's not glamorous, but it's tradition. As soon as the presents are opened and the kids are settled down, I have my shower and slip into a fresh, new pair.

I'd try to describe the sensation of sliding on fresh underwear, but it's actually indescribable - the best I can say is that it's below that "first time having sex" and above "slipping into cool, crisp bedsheets".

I'm a boxer brief fan, and for those of you who don't rock that style - you should. Something about the extra length and tightness of the legs prevents the dreaded Underwear Creep that regular boxers or briefs succumb to, and they're styled to make sure everything stays snug and together. And that's a good thing -  'cause when I'm running on the treadmill, the road, or down an aisle at work, the last thing I need to feel is the awkward sensation of my bits and pieces slapping against my leg.

(Every woman who's ever worn a thong is rolling her eyes at my complaint of Underwear Creep)

Unfortunately, the New Underwear Sensation (Great name for a band, eh?) only lasts for the week after Christmas - after that all the packs are empty and the briefs have entered the regular rotation in the laundry - it's a sad, sad, day.

I think that if I won the lottery my eccentric splurge (You know you'd have one) wouldn't be something crazy like collecting Maseratis or juggling Faberge eggs. No, no - mine would be something much simpler:

Fresh, never-worn boxer briefs every single day.

I know - I need help.


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