My Mom's Underwear
In college, when my own underwear was in the laundry, I once---okay, I did it more than once-- stole a pair from my fifty-something mom. They were big and white and never made me feel fat. I wore them when my period was bad and the underwear felt comforting for some reason.
One time, though, I happened to read the tag on the seam. It said "Spankypants, by Carters.''
I was astounded by the name and wondered who it was supposed to appeal to. What copywriter at Carters had chosen "Spankypants?'' How long had they been in my mom's drawer? Did they still even make them?
My boyfriend at the time, who was later diagnosed with a borderline personality disorder, but could still, at this point in his life, be charming and sweet, didn't mind when I wore them. He was kinky in ways that sometimes puzzled and repulsed me. (I'm not going to elaborate, sorry). But this wasn't one of those times. He didn't like them for kinky reasons. He thought the underpants were endearing and one of his nicknames for me was "Spankypants.''