Underpants Under Attack
I wasn’t going to blog about something quite personal and embarrassing that happened to me last week, but it’s Monday and I need to write something that cheers me up. And besides, since when have I censored myself and kept strange stories a secret? If I can write about fishing the room key out of a toilet with my bare hands, I can write about this. For whatever reason, this quick little tale I’m about to tell does make me smile…and cringe, and shake my head in disgust.

Last week, my underwear was torn off in the ladies’ restroom here at work.

It doesn’t seem true. But it is true. I wish I was making this up, but alas, I am not. Here’s the story in brief, and please don’t pardon the pun:

There I was. In the bathroom. I was in a stall, doing what I had to do, and when it came time to stand up and pull my underwear back up, that’s when trouble entered the picture. I know I’ve shared before how awful my balance is, and of course, this whole mess wouldn’t have happened if I had a decent sense of balance.

It happened super fast. I stood up, hiked up the ol’ panties, standing on one foot for a brief moment. I stumbled to my left, where my (admittedly cheap and worn-out) underwear caught on the edge of the toilet paper/ seat cover dispenser. At the same time, my other foot came down and pulled my body to the right…but the underpants were stretched beyond their limits and there was a loud tearing noise as the elastic band gave way and the fabric tore down the side.

The best part? A lady was in the stall next to me and heard the ruckus. “Are you OK in there?” I thought I was going to die. What did it sound like to her? A lot of banging around, stumbling, tearing and whispered swearing? Probably. I think I just said something like, “Yeah, I’m OK” and stood there wondering what to do now that my underpants were in shreds.

I also wanted to wait for her to finish up and leave before I exited the stall. Whoever she was, I didn’t want her to see my face. I hoped she wasn’t peeking at my shoes so she could perhaps identify me later in the hallway or something. I intentionally stalled, hanging out by the toilet awaiting my chance to bolt. She finally did leave, and I was free to go.

But first, I had a decision to make regarding said underpants. I was wearing a skirt, and when it was pulled up you could clearly see a torn panty line underneath. All bunched up right near my left hip. Plus it felt incredibly uncomfortable, and like the panties were going to give way and slip down to my ankles when I least expected it. Obviously, this was NOT a chance I was willing to take. Sure, I am clumsy and I also have no problem sharing stories like this one on the internet, but one thing I don’t want to be is The Girl Whose Panties Fell Down to Her Ankles as She Walked to the Copy Machine. Knowing my luck, this would be exactly what would happen. Cripes.

So I decided to trash ‘em. Good bye, sweet panties. I had no choice but to go commando the rest of the day. Luckily, I only had a little over an hour to be in the office, so I just tried not to think about my wounded and brave underpants, laying in the garbage can in the bathroom under a carefully-placed balled up paper towel… because I didn’t want someone to walk in and just see panties lying in the garbage all willy-nilly.

I don’t like going commando, especially in the office. It feels so, so wrong on thousands of levels. That day was just no fun.

Anyway, this is what happened to me, and as strange as it sounds, it is fact. I urge you to practice caution in a closed stall, for you never know when a sharp edge on a wall-mounted dispenser will go after your undergarments. Them things is ruthless.