My partner-in-crime, Sarah, is a practical person. She knows what is essential in life, and those principles guide her actions. Unlike me, where I find myself continually off the beaten path and in trouble, Sarah will keep you on the straight and narrow.
That's why Sarah latched on to The Pocket Revolution, where her singular goal is to change women's apparel to add more pockets to meet our pocketular (I'm going to make that a new word for multiple pockets, so get on board) demands.
Yesterday, as I was feeling rough about another Kitchen Disaster of Epic Proportions (a story for another time), I received our first official blog entry from Sarah. It has some inspiring news, so hold on to your pantaloons!
On Thanksgiving, I'm reminded of how thankful I am for the special people in my life. Major points for you, my fellow BABs. In addition to The Pocket Revolution, I'd like to talk about boxers. I recently ran out of underwear. Being the sole person in our family who is working and momming from home, I'm the logical and likely party to wash our clothes. Naomi's clothes are now managed by our new and extravagant life choice: Nanny Rae Rae. Judge me all you want, but I'm so thankful that we are in a place of older parenthood that affords me the co-parenting partner of my dreams. I wish all moms could spend money on a nanny as opposed to daycare.
But I'm getting sidetracked... This past week, I'd fallen behind on my laundry responsibilities. And the only adult with clean underwear in the house was my mate and favorite human, Micah. It took some time to consider why I didn't have any clean undies myself, but I chalked it up to being thoughtful about others' needs and less thoughtful about my own. Still, the dilemma wasn't going away, and I needed something to wear down under. So I decided to wear Micah's newly purchased puma boxers. It was only out of necessity, at first. But after I pulled those delightful form-fitting mini shorts on my ass, I discovered something magical. Puma makes the most comfortable male underwear on the planet.
The material was so soft and comforting. I kept running my hands on them again and again. I felt as if someone was hugging my ass throughout the entire day. The best part was that there was no chaffing. They were just long enough to cover the skin that tends to rub together as I shuffle through the house. And you know what? I didn't have to pull the cloth out from between my cheeks. Not one single time! Yes. You read that right. No wedgie the entire day! Can this be real? Why are women subjected to tiny triangle pieces of cloth, and men get to wear ass hugging shorts all day? After I told Micah I was in love with him and his underpants, we proceeded to debate. He doesn't want to share or lose his stockholder position of our houseful net worth of underpants.
After two days, we decided on a compromise. The next time he is at Costco, he's going to buy two more sets of those Puma panties.
I am completely on board with anything that stops chub rub, but I have one request, Sarah.
We MUST strike the word panties from our vocabulary. Not only is that my least favorite word in the world, but we need a more empowering term for those underpants when we approach Puma for a collaboration.
I'm thinking Puma BadAss BetchShorts.
What other names do you have for underwear?