Clean or Dirty underwear, pantie fetishes or sniffers ?
What is what, and who is where?
What is it all about?
When I was folding my laundry today, I thought about my grandmother, and her complete insanity on the subject. She had a daily ritual of asking me about the condition of my underwear in the same breath as the weather report.
I would look at her calmly, and just roll my eyes.
"What if you get into an accident?" she would always ask, like world peace depended upon it.
Now, let's discuss this logically.
Let's say you do get into an accident, God forbid.
Does Nurse Jackie refuse you at Emergency for having skid marks ? Do the gynecologists have a long coffee break to discuss the variety of underpants they have seen all day long?
Do they prefer granny panties or thongs?
Who invented those embroidered Monday to Sunday panties? Did you actually wear one marked Monday on a Monday? Or did you wear the Monday on a Wednesday?
Did it really have some deep meaning that we did not know about?
If you were lying on a hospital table, would someone tell you quietly that you were wearing the wrong day of the week?
At age 6 I got hit by a car while waving at my mother crossing the street. I can still see the fins on the back of the car today.
I woke up on the living room couch with Grampy Crit handing me a Illustrated Classics comic book called 'The Story of Jesus.' My grandfather asked my mother if I was okay.
My mother said,
"I think so, but I am so worried she didn't have clean underwear on. We don't want the town to talk you know."
I used to sell underwear in my store that would give conversation ammunition to the doctors, and my grandmother for months on end.
No one knew which way was up on some of them - or down.
One Thursday evening, I noticed an executive type wandering around the lingerie section at a snail's pace. I immediately assumed he was a 'nylon stockings' guy that was looking to purchase stockings for himself.
I left him alone, and continued to mark stock until I noticed he was approaching all the female patrons of the store.
Okay, maybe he was shy, I thought, and he is asking them to purchase the stockings for him. No surprise there, as it had happened before.
Ten minutes later, a fond customer of mine approached me with a look of horror on her face. She was in such a state, it took her moments to compose herself, and she was on the verge of tears.
"Linda", she said.
"You have to tell that man to leave."
"He is asking each one of us if we would kindly remove our panties, and he will replace them with a new pair."
I found myself sinking into the ground quickly. It's one thing to have good customer service, but to be asked to be on a pantie patrol for fetish dead heads is another.
I was speechless, but knew I had to act quickly before I lost a few customers. Customers hate being bothered by sales staff, but to be harrassed by 'sniffers of the sixty ninth degree' is another thing..
Manning my 'don't fool around me' face and a yardstick, I went over and started talking to him in a very loud volume.
I basically told him if he did not leave the store immediately I would call the authorities.
With that he broke out in tears, and asked me not to call the police. He apologized as I led him out the door, and I told him never to darken my door again.
He pushed the door open and suddenly stopped. He turned around slowly and asked if I could do him a favour. I do not know why I felt sorry for him so I said,
With that he asked me if I could drop my drawers, and, if I gave them to him he would never bother anyone again.
With that, the yardstick quickly came down on him over and over.
He was running so quickly, he tripped over the curb and fell flat on his face. Someone grabbed him by the belt to pull him up, and somehow his pants fell down.
There lying in the middle of Rideau and Dalhousie street was an assistant to one of the Members of Parliament in one the finest turquoise pair of ladies drawers you have ever seen.
I am not talking your cheap 'no name' panties either. I am talking Aubade from France. Yes, I know my underwear.
As people gathered around the man, now crying into the pavement, I said quite loudly,
"Well it's a good thing you had on clean underwear today."
Some people nodded their head in agreement, and one man said very quietly,
"Yup, you just never know when you are going to have an accident."
Words and Images Linda Seccaspina 2010
Cast of Characters:
Schuyleur Seccaspina, age 4 months in a diaper and thong.
Linda Seccaspina 1991 still wearing the football padded jackets that she finally gave up in 1997.
Dedicated to Matt Paust. I had written this when I joined OS and no one had read it. He told me to repost it
So I took another story and blended the two.