Suburban Snapshots

Our long, national nightmare of ill-fitting drawers is over

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

My husband couldn't be more tired of hearing about my quest for (and purchase of many unsuitable pairs of) underwear. Since summer arrived and my wardrobe changed over from jeans-in-boots to flowy, strappy dresses, I've struggled to find unders that meet what I think are pretty damned reasonable requirements:

1. No clinging
2. No wedgies
3. No bumps

I'd been to Target and Macy's, Kohl's, Sears, Marshall's, TJ Maxx and Victoria's Secret. I tried on underwear OVER my underwear. I polled Facebook and got good suggestions, but mostly for online retailers and I didn't want to risk paying to ship back another pair of silky disappointments.

Some were promising initially but failed later. On really desperate days I'd just buy the least attractive, most sex-repellant granny pants, figuring bigger and uglier must = comfortable. I'm delighted to tell you that this is not the case. There's no need to resort to this, at least not until you actually have to tuck your boobs into your panties.

In the middle of all this frustration I was starting to believe that my body was to blame, that my proportions were just so out of whack I'd never find anything that fit right. I like my shape, it just seems that most clothing manufacturers model on either Kate Moss or 12 year-old boys.

All dressing rooms should be this well lit.

So I got out the tape measure. You'd think that being an advocate of getting a professional bra fitting I'd have done this sooner and realized that — with measurements of 36-28-forty-SERIOUSLY?!-four — I'd been buying a size too small in all my previous attempts. I had to suck it up. I had to buy the XLs. Getting the size right solved 80% of my problem.

I found these great hipsters (the underwear variety, not the skinny jean/mustachioed variety) almost by accident at Marshalls for three bucks a pair. I love them. They've passed the getting in and out of the car test, the walking up stairs test, the bending down to feed the dogs test, even the getting in your kid's face to scold her for disappearing in a crowded amusement park test. I bought 6 8 pairs.

So I'll be shutting the eff up about my underwear issues, sparing you all my constant laments about wedgies and panty lines, and finally leaving this whole episode, ahem, behind me.

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