Mirror, mirror, on the wall, which knickers today, to make me comfortable?

Partner is hanging his twenty third pair of knickers on the airer this morning. So many pairs of knickers, he’s muttering to himself. Well, we have to wear knickers, I say, curtly and anyway, your pants take up more room on the airer than our knickers do. 

I’m not sure that men ‘get’ knickers. They don’t understand the intricacies involved in buying them and then the heartfelt choice over what pair to wear in the morning. We don’t just have one size fits all pants like they do. No, our lives are so much more complicated than that: period knickers and within that category depends on what day of the month it is, big knickers, for when we know they will not be seen by anyone (however, we’ve all been caught out on that choice more than once in our lives), a thong to avoid the vpl, or  alternatively the flesh coloured ‘very unflattering but sheer’ knickers that ride up your bum and give a wedgie – that no one can see because that’s the point of them, the body shaper control knickers if it’s a fat day, the knickers husband bought for you last birthday that are really impractical and the lace makes you itch, but you haven’t worn them for a while and it has been mentioned, the crotchless knickers – for no other reason than the dog ate the crotch (see blog: crotchless knickers)…lets be honest, the list goes on*

Us females take all these decisions in our stride every morning, but I don’t think a man could cope with the range of options and choices available to him. 

When daughter 4 was born, my younger sister came round and whereas most people bring a card and a cute present, she came and emptied out my knicker drawer. Get rid of those, she said, flinging knickers over her shoulder. My stitches haven’t even healed yet, I remonstrated with her. You can’t have these, she carried on without remorse, chucking another pair out. What are you thinking? She scolded me, throwing big, grey knickers onto the floor, you’ll never get another baby wearing those monstrosities. I don’t want another baby, I wailed, those knickers are my best form of contraception. Please can I keep them, I pleaded. Finally, she finished and stood back looking pleased with herself. I peered into the drawer and looked at the five remaining pairs. You haven’t even left me a pair for each day of the week, I said. You can’t be trusted with any more than that, she retorted. Stick the kids in the car, we’re going knicker shopping!

*Please feel free to add