Wait, you didn't talk about your underpants at Thanksgiving dinner?

I love Thanksgiving. It’s the one day a year where you can wear elastic pants in public and people are like “Oooh, good thinking.” It’s also the one day a year where you can continuously eat for 12-48 hours and nobody judges you while you pile carbohydrates and gelatinous berries onto a makeshift trough and eat until your elastic stretches. And then one hour later you get up and are like “I could definitely use more stuffing up in here. And just go ahead and hand me a buttered roll for good measure.”  

However, while it is normally a judgment-free holiday, I did not get so lucky this year. But I sort of brought it upon myself, which I’m guessing will shock no one? And so I will not hold it against Thanksgiving in permanence and will, instead, send apology notes via telepathy to CB that I sometimes don’t know how to act in mixed company of my soon-to-be extended family.

You see, as stated here in the past, I have issues with my underpants. And while the underpants suspenders idea is patent-pending, I need to come up with a different, more timely solution because it’s starting to interfere with my day-to-day activities. Which I think is the first sign in the 5 point steps that you have a problem?  

Anyway, a few hours before Thanksgiving dinner, while thirty-plus people milled around sipping wine and watching football, I was experiencing an undergarment emergency that I couldn’t suffer alone.

So, I grabbed Cousin Nikki and was like “I have to show you something” and walked into the dining room and over to the corner.

CN: “What’s wrong?”
Me: “I need you to feel my underpants.”
CN: “Um, what?”
Me, placing her hand on my side-thigh in a not-at-all-weird way: “Here, feel.”
CN: “What the hell is that?”
Me: “It’s my underpants!”
CN, laughing: “Why are they on your thigh?”
Me: “See??? I’m not making this up! They fall down ALL THE TIME.”

Then Cousin Dana walked over.

CD: “What are you guys doing?”
CN: “Oh my God, you have to feel this.”

And then Cousin Nikki placed Cousin Dana’s hand on my thigh, too.

CD: “What am I feeling?”
Me: “My underpants.”

CD glanced at CN.

CN: “Right? You can’t make this sh*t up.”
CD: “How on earth did that happen?”
Me: “I don’t know, but it happens almost weekly! I mean, this is extreme, but there are certain underpants I can’t wear with dresses in the summertime because of this.”
CN: “Ok, you’re wearing the wrong underwear.”
CD: “And nobody calls them underpants.”
Me: “Focus! What do I do?”
CN: “You have to take them off.”
Me: “What?? I can’t go commando at family Thanksgiving! I’m not even married yet!”

And then CN started laughing too hard to speak.

CD: “Seriously, what kind of underwear are you wearing? Do you wear granny panties or something? How does this happen?”
CN, between laughing: “Poor CB.”
Me: “NO! I swear to God I wear cute underpants!”
CN and CD in unison: “You’re going to have to show us.”

And so, because my shame left the building years ago, I looked around to make sure we didn’t have an audience and pulled the side part of my underpants up above my waistline.

Me: “See?”
CD: “Oh, those are cute.  I feel better for CB now.”
CN: “But you’re still clearly buying the wrong kind.”
CD: “Yeah, you need to invest in thongs or boy shorts.”
CN: “Get both.”
Me: “What?! I don’t think I can wear thongs.”
CN: “It’ll change your life.”
CD: “Yeah, and we won’t have to have this conversation in a month when your underpants fall down on New Year’s Eve.”
Me: “That would be nice.”
CN: “Please do it soon. And maybe go to the bathroom and pull up your underpants now before they’re around your ankles.”
Me: “Done and done. Thanks!”

And then I walked away to fix my underpants in peace while I’m guessing CD and CN immediately walked over to CB, begging him to reconsider.

While in the bathroom, I took a poll of two via text message to figure out if I was missing out on an obvious solution to this situation:

Text 1:

Me: “Happy Thanksgiving! Question: do you wear thongs?”
Friend #1: “Happy Thanksgiving! And I’d say that was a weird segue if it was coming from anyone but you. So, to answer your question, yes, sometimes. Why?”
Me: “Because I need to figure out if this is the solution to my underpants dilemma.”
F1: “Actually, it’ll probably help. Though, to be fair to you, I think you just need to get a smaller size. We’ve discussed this.”
Me: “I know! And I’ve tried. The ones I’m wearing now are a 6! I’m not a 6. But the 8’s fell down, and so did the 10’s.”
F1: “You seriously have issues like no one else in my life.”
Me: “Which is why we’re friends.”
F1: “Obviously. Anyway, go buy some thongs. Either way it’s win/win – your underpants won’t fall down and you’ll become a member of the 21^st century.”

Text 2:

Me: “Happy Thanksgiving! Question: do you wear thongs?”
F2: “You too! Yep. And that’s not a weird holiday question at all, btw.”
Me: “Hmmm….so do you think that would solve my underpants dilemma?”
F2: “To be honest, I’m not sure I want that problem solved. It makes me laugh every time we talk about it.”
Me: “But they’re around my thighs and it’s Thanksgiving!”
F2: “Please tell me you showed CB.”
Me: “No, but I did show it to a few of his cousins.”
F2: “That’s perfectly normal.”
Me: “So thumbs up or thumbs down on the thong?”
F2: “Thumbs up because I feel like that will open up a whole new box of worms that will delight me to no end.”
Me: “Deal. You’re a good friend.”
F2: “I do what I can.”

And there you have it, folks. Cyber Monday, here I come!