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Can we talk for a minute about underwear?

Yeah. Underwear.

I know this is a seemingly trivial and potentially irritating topic. If you feel that way, I suggest you stop reading now. Because man, oh man, do I have some stuff to say about underwear.

Here's what I want: black cotton briefs. Full coverage. Call me a granny, but I don't want my ass on display. Visible panty lines? I'm okay with them. Thongs, in my opinion, in addition to being uncomfortable, beg the question "Is she, or isn't she?"

As in, is she or isn't she wearing underwear.

And you know what?  I'm FINE with the whole freakin' world knowing that Yes, I am wearing underwear.

I. Am. Fine. With. That.

All I want are plain cotton briefs. Plain, BLACK cotton briefs. White is okay, and certainly welcome in the rotation, as are greys and taupes, but I prefer black.

And black cotton briefs are simply not available.

Or, they're not affordable. The image shown above is a pair of Nordstrom organic cotton briefs, which cost about $30 each. Not including shipping. And there's no Nordstrom in Canada.

I swear to you, I have looked high and I have looked low and there is simply no such thing as a five-pack of plain, black cotton briefs.

How is this possible?

You want cotton? No problem. There's plenty of cotton. If you want cotton, you can have this:

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Hanes... I thought I could count on you. Where's the black, yo?

Oh, cotton is available. As long as you're a skinny minnie, aged 10 to 22.

I am nearly 31. And as such, I do not want any of the following nearing my nether regions:
  • butterflies
  • polka dots
  • kitty cats
  • glitter
  • plastic jewels
  • neon
  • fur
  • faux-fur
  • the words "kiss" "meow" "hot" "hawt" etc.
I don't hate patterns or anything, but when it comes to my underwear, I want something plain.

Plain, however (unless you want white granny panties that pull up to your neck and can double for a tent in inclement weather) is again, simply not to be had. This is to be had:
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I don't mind a white panty, but these babies are massive.

But underwear that isn't hideous, uncomfortable or ridiculous? Not to be had.

If I wanted to look like a down-on-her-luck prostitute with an affinity to polyester and a natural resistance to yeast infections, sure, I'd be set. After all, there's plenty of this crap on the market:
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Lovely styles, currently available at LaSenza.

But I am not a down-on-her-luck prostitute and I like my cotton. And I like it in black.

Is this really  too much to ask for? I mean, in an ideal world, not only would I be able to find plain black panties, but I'd be able to find them in organic, fair-trade cotton at a fair price. I've already lowered my expectations, okay? WHY WON'T THE UNIVERSE STEP UP?

Panties are one of the only things I still purchase new. I'm a second-hand woman, for a number of reasons, but second-hand panties are still out of my league. So underwear shopping is the only remaining vestige of my old life that leads me to the dark and cruel world of mass-market retail.

And the experience is nothing short of horrifying. Every. Single. Time.

My kingdom for a pair of accessible, black cotton panties, yo. My kingdom.

And that's my post for today. Deal with it.

*EDITED TO ADD:

Some folks out there have suggested Victoria Secret as a possible option. But, as this screen grab shows, this is what they offer in the "cotton" category:
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That said, I appreciate all the suggestions. The Bay, Jockey, and Sears have all been vouched for. I have been to the department stores and had little luck, but I'm willing to keep trying. Thanks for the advice, ladies!
 
 
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My friend Nick's first child was born eight months ago.

Eight months ago, and I only managed to meet her last week.

I've had a gift for her sitting on my desk for ages - a small, blue elephant, purchased during the Christmas rush. Plush, of course. Friendly-looking. Adorned with a jaunty red bow about the neck (a sweet addition, if I do say so myself).

I was looking forward to handing it over. I was sure the baby would like it.


But nonetheless, as I drove across the city to Nick's house (way up in North York's east end, where he and his wife decided to settle in order to get something of a decent size that was at least semi-affordable), I thought to myself, 'this is what our friendship - no wait, our lives - have come to.'

Eight months to plan a simple visit.

And then I realized I'd forgotten the elephant at home.

Which, just, you know... figures.

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Nick is what I'd call a good friend. A close friend. I love him, even though I only manage to see him only a few times a year (at best). But this is what most of my close friendships are like nowadays. Almost everyone I love best is at a distance, in a different city, or working a different schedule. We're all kept apart by the demands of young families, new partners, and business trips. We exchange sporadic emails that are lovely to read, but hellish to get around to writing, and catch sight of each other at weddings and christenings and that sort of thing, when we generally find about five minutes to talk before our relatives sweep us away. I receive (and send) the occasional nostalgic text, but we never talk on the phone. (Who has the time?)

And that's just the way it is.

That's being grown up and living far away and being busy with work and grocery shopping and exercise and family obligations and all of the general hoo-ha that goes along with being a (reluctantly) upwardly mobile thirty-something living in a major city.

It's related (somewhat) to the money issue I wrote about a few weeks ago. Mo' money, mo' problems, remember? We're too busy, mostly because we think we need more money. I think that's what it comes down to.

Like I said, that's just the way it is, but at times, it's hard to reconcile with what I remember.
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When I was a kid, I would take four to six paperbacks out of the school library on Friday afternoon, just to ensure I'd have enough to occupy me over the weekend. I'd lie on my living room floor, paperbacks in a pile, bowl of snacks beside me, just killing time, for hours. I was often bored. I was never busy.

Were someone to call, I'd be ready, at the drop of a hat, to do whatever was suggested. I was always free.

And my fluid, free-time filled lifestyle continued all the way through university. Once, when we were both still students at Queen's, Nick called me up in the wee hours of the morning and said, "I'm going to Toronto. Want to come?" And 30 minutes later we were on the road. Three hours later we were in the city. And by nightfall we were back in Kingston. I didn't even have to think about it. He called and we went. That was the extent of our planning.

Now it takes us eight months to sort out a simple lunch.

And I'm not even popular! That's the real shocker. I'm well-liked  (I think), but no social butterfly. And compared to most people I know, I'm positively lousy with time. I work part time. I play sports for fun. We have no children and Nate is an academic, which means he's often at home. My life is shockingly easy, and still, I find myself saying no to half the things I'm invited to, and constantly apologizing for being absent. And at the very same time, I feel like I'm failing at being busy enough. It's mental. Mental, I tell you.

I'm not sure what my point is. I guess this is just something to work on. For the time being, I've visited with Nick and I've met the baby (adorable, chubby, sweet). But the elephant is still sitting here, on my desk, staring at me.

Judging me. I can tell.
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Image 1: Jellycat Junglie Blue Elephant;  Image 2: Organic Beginnings Baby Sprouts Blue Elephant; Image 3: Bimbo Plush Elephant; Image 4: Judgy Elephant; * available at various retailers online

 
 
Hey y'all. Sorry if I've been a bit absent. We've been here before. You know how it is.

First there was the vacation, which was great, by the way. (If you've never been to the Bay of Fundy and never walked on the sea floor, I highly reccommend you go immediately.) Then there was the transition back to work, then there was helping Pete with his new apartment, then there was the heat to contend with.

Personal blogging has fallen by the wayside. It happens. (At least I've been posting on the Chic blog. So it's not like I've been a total no-show, right?)

Right.

Anyway. I thought I'd post some multimedia stuff by way of an apology. First, some awesome music to improve your Monday: a classic from the Staple Sisters.
Next, a link to Sissy's Magical Ponycorn Adventure, an awesome little game made by a 5 year old and her dad. (This recently went viral, so you may have seen it already. You should click through to play it RIGHT NOW. It's super cute. Remember to put your sound on.)
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And finally, here's the latest 1 minute video I worked on for my day job at Nyman Ink, complete with me doing another slightly-embarrassing voiceover:
That's it, that's all. Multimedia Monday, consider yourself conquered.