tales of a girl in the city

juillet 29, 2004

In Which I Finally Get Political

As all eyes in America turn towards Boston and the DNC, people across the nation are finally asking the important questions:  How do we work to repair the damage done in the Middle East?  How do we help US workers whose jobs have been displaced because of outsourcing?  What of healthcare?  What steps are necessary to build a safer, more secure America?

As I packed for David's house last night, listening to the Convention speakers incite Americans to stand up and ask the tough questions, I was inspired to add my own voice to the fray.  

So to that end, my friends, I ask you:

Is it OK to reuse lingerie?

Because, frankly, I'm feeling weird about it.

While going through my underwear drawer, it occurred to me that I have had some of that stuff for a long time.  In fact, some of my frilliest underwear may remember a time when Academy-Award Winning Actress Hillary Swank was still just a single mom, trying to make things work with Steve Sanders on 90210.  Which--in Beverly Hills terms--means that some of my lingerie has seen considerably more action than Andrea's did when she was a geeky virgin. 

Though, let's be clear: NOT as much as Brenda's did during her Worrisome Slut Phase. 

Hmmm.  Come to think of it, my underwear and I are probably more "Kelly." 

But, I bet every girl thinks she's a Kelly.  Which is absurd, because I am so much more like Kelly than any of you skanky bitches.  You all probably think you're like Kelly, but you're really like Donna, and you just don't want to admit it to yourselves.

Which is so lame. 

I mean, get over it already. 

Donna's not so bad.  During The Prom Episode when she got drunk, all the kids banded together and protested so she'd graduate. 


Everyone loves Donna. 

Not as much as they love Kelly. 

But still. 




Hey, Look.

I hate it when we fight. 

I'm sorry.

Let's never fight again, okay?



Let's go shopping.




Got you!  Suckers!  I was just doing that to prove how like Kelly I am.  I'm so like Kelly.  No one could ever stay mad at Kelly either.


Now that that's settled. 

Where was I?


About lingerie. 

So, a single item in my lingerie drawer may have encountered anywhere between three and five of the various men I've dated and/or just made-out with. 

And that's really a little strange when you think about it.  It's weird to have worn the matching bra-and-(sorry, Emily, I know you hate this word)-panty set that I bought for Dan's birthday... for M.  Or to remember so clearly how Luis slipped his hand up my skirt while I was wearing the black thong that I later wore for Unicorn sometime last Spring.

Now let me be clear,  it's all in pristine condition.  I don't wear the nicest stuff that often--special occasions mostly (Christmas, Groundhog Day), and lord knows it doesn't stay on very long, so it's very close to almost new.  But, even so.  It's a bit odd when you think about it.  I mean, I wouldn't have bought all of those various men the same Christmas present.  Wouldn't re-use the same card at birthday-time.  Or alternate wearing one of, like, eight dresses to every date I'd been on since 1996. 

But on the other hand, who can afford to keep buying a new $50 bra every time she wants to get a little lovin' from a new man?  And, obviously, he won't know the difference.  So what if I purchased the little pink number originally to celebrate an anniversary with the last boyfriend?  (Though, THANK GOD underwear can't talk.  Because, wouldn't that be embarrassing?  In the midst of rolling around with a new lust-interest, and your knickers pipe up, "She bought us for the last bloke, you know.   And he had a bigger dick.")

Hmmm.  Though, singing knickers could add quite a nice harmony line to the arm-hair caroling.

Things to think about.

In any case, it's certainly a dilemma that the Democratic Party will need to take seriously in order to get my vote.