Mother May I?

WARNING: This post is not meant for people who can't handle slightly uncomfortable subjects. Meaning....it's about underwear.

I have had several posts about my underwear, so this shouldn't be too much of a shock. Like when my underwear fell out of my pants during my science review session. Or when I discovered a pair of underwear in the middle of the hall of my apartment complex on the first day of school....then discovered it was mine.

How embarrassing.

Well, underwear seems to always sneak up on me in embarrassing ways. "Granny Panties" isn't my fondest nickname, but hey, everyone has one they don't like that much.

I realized the source of all this underwear humiliation stems back to my childhood days when I let my mom purchase all my underwear.

She would come home from Wal-Mart and say "Shelby! I got you a present!" I'd excitedly run to the grocery bag and she would whip out a 6-pack of cheap packaged underwear.

I was always appreciative because clean underwear is refreshing. And what little girl wants to pay for their own underwear? Ya. None.

So I continued to let my mother buy my underwear.

For a long time.

Too long.

Which really means: I bought (with my own money and not from Wal-Mart) my first pair of underwear last semester.

.....Mostly because my nickname was getting to me.....

It was then, I realized the sad truth of my nickname. I also realized how my mother is living in her own little world when it comes to the size of my bottom.

I considered making this picture into one of those newly popular "meme's" entitled: 

What I think my size is./What my mother thinks my size is.

Or this one:

Enlarged to show detail.

I mean, I don't think it was my mom's intention to buy me underwear that was 3X larger than my actual size.....it just didn't occur to her that my bum isn't humongous.

Now I realize why my roommates snickered every time I changed in my room. I could literally duck tape a half of a rubber kickball to each of my cheeks and my underwear still wouldn't hug them quite tight enough.

The realization of the drastic size difference between my underwear just hit me while I was packing today and I had to share with my fellow bunk-mates.

We laughed.

As Tara put it "On a scale from 1-10, 1 being bloomers, and 10 being sexy, Shelby's underwear is below bloomers".

I guess that puts me in the negative. 

Good thing I'm re-vamping my underwear collection this Christmas. 

I think I'm going to have a ceremonial burning of all "Granny Panties" so I can have a clean slate.

Also, I think I might tell my mother I can handle buying my own underwear from now on.

Thank you, thank you. I know it's progress.

But remember, these things do take time. 

Wish me luck.