Desperation

Okay, I'm growing. It's what we do when we have a person within whose sole purpose is to gain weight for the next three months. From my estimations, ever body part that begins with the letter "B" grows substantially. This means that over a process of time I've slowly put almost every piece of clothing aside for another day far off in the future. Again I stress, almost every piece of clothing, with the exception of socks.

My current clothing dilemma is with undergarments to adequately cover those growing "B" body parts. Last week I packed away all but two bras. Three days ago I took one of my precious two out of the washing machine to discover it was blown to smithereens. There was no saving it.

And then there was one.

Have I mentioned that I'm home without a car most of the time, and that even if I am home with a car, the very last thing I'd ever want to do is take a two year old boy bra shopping. Bra shopping is torture anyway, so if I took a two-year old boy I might not live to tell about it.

Tonight I couldn't take it anymore. It didn't matter that I was exhausted, that it was -20 below outside, or that once Mark gets home all I want to do is crash on the couch and watch House reruns. I had to go. I cleaned up the dinner dishes and left the house to bare the weather and the wrath of the unmentionables department.

I'm now happy to report that my trip was a success. Going with the theme of the day, living and learning, I also purchased a prophylactic 6-pack of Hanes a size larger than usual, in anticipation for the day the washer eats the remaining pairs of underpants that still manage to fit.