I am quite aware I have been absent from the blogging world and I do feel a tinge of guilt for not writing anything new or entertaining for my readers. But I am just having so much fun with my boys this past month that writing hasn’t really been a top priority. And, I’ve started homeschooling B for kindergarten which is much more time-consuming than one may think. Anywho, I do have a bit of something I would like to share.
Let me explain.
Last weekend I went on a weekend camping trip with my T, B and my in-laws. We drove from Hamilton, ON to Erie, Pennsylvania. It was a gorgeous day. The weather was perfect, the drive was smooth, the company was even better. We got to the camp in the early evening, set up everything, started a fire, roasted marshmallows. It was camping at it’s finest!
T and I made a kickass breakfast over the campfire. During the course of the morning I began to itch. I didn’t know why. I had recently bathed, I hadn’t been in the woods, I do not have crabs, but everything was itchy. I mean, hardcore. The plan for the day was to go into Erie and shop till we dropped, I was hoping the itching would cease and I could enjoy myself. The itching did not cease. I broke out in a rash wherever clothes touched my skin. I was miserable and becoming quite a nasty bitch because of it.
Thinking, thinking, thinking…
*Light bulb* The new laundry soap! I had bought an off-brand laundry soap to save a couple bucks. I must be allergic to it.
We went to Wal-Mart to get me something to wear for the rest of the camping trip. I found the clothes without a problem. Sweatpants, sweatshirt, t-shirt…the camping basics. I had to get underwear too as my undies were in danger of being torn to shreds from my nails clawing at them. Seriously, I had no shame people. I was scratching like a man without an audience.
Surveying the panty isle was depressing. I am a panty snob. I buy my underthings at Victoria’s Secret because every other brand makes my parts feel sad. But I had very little choice in the matter now. My parts would soon be getting stitches and ointment if I didn’t remedy the situation soon, so Wal-Mart panties it was. *somberballs*
I grabbed a couple Medium’s that somewhat appealed to my taste and went into the dressing room. They cut off my circulation, digging deep into my hips and thighs. Holy Balls Batman! Had I gained 50 pounds?
I checked the tags. Apparently a “Medium” is a size 4. Yeah frickin right balls….
I made my way back out to the racks, utterly annoyed. Muttering to myself criticisms about Wal-Mart and apologizing to Victoria’s Secret for my unintentional betrayal. I decided that having to wear Wal-Mart panties would suffice as my punishment for this indiscretion.
Thumbing through the hangers of panties I realized that in this scam of an establishment I am an XL. Seriously… *sigh*
Back to the dressing room.
They were too tight as well. This is so uncool, Wally-Balls.
One last attempt. I resolved to go commando the rest of the weekend if they were tight as well.
XXL…fit. You bitch.
Your panties made my parts feel the most sad they had ever felt. If my lady parts had tear ducts, my toes would have been wet all weekend from the disconsolate river of tears flowing down my legs. Also, your sizing is a crock of balls. I detest you and your panties. Well done on making me feel ginormous and assaulting my self-esteem.
You Suck Balls,
P.S. It was your cheap off-brand detergent that made me itchy in the first place. I hate you.