LAUNDRY LOVE

They say that there are 2 absolutes in life: death and taxes. I think they forgot one more..
LAUNDRY..

When you’re single, all you have to worry about is your dirty crap. If you don’t wash, then there’s no one to blame but yourself. You end up grabbing clothes out of your hamper or off the pile on your floor, smell ‘em, then wear ‘em! Or if you’re like a few guys I know, take your underwear, turn them inside out and you’re good to go. More often than not, single people will walk to their communal laundry room in their apartment complex, quarters in hand and load the washers/dryers and if they’re feeling really brave, leave for the cycle and come back when it’s done. I’ve tried that before. Yeah, I got brave…and when I came back, all my thong underwear was missing. Scary.

Then your single life laundry quickly translates into “couple” mode when you start co-habitating with your significant other. At first, it’s weird. As you witness him attempt to do the laundry, you think to yourself, “Do I really want him touching my stuff? Is he going to throw my delicates in with his jeans? I hope he doesn’t see my “period undies”. What detergent is he using? Why is he folding my stuff like that? That top doesn’t belong in the dryer!”

But it’s not any easier when you’re the one taking on the chore: “Does he not understand what INSIDE the hamper means? Why does he throw all his shit AROUND the hamper? Why does he leave his underwear inside his jeans? Even worse, rolls his jeans off so his underwear is caught up in them?!” And just when you think you have a good system going…

The co-habitation leads to offspring…

This is when you feel like those women in Third World countries that you see on T.V. with 50 baskets of clothes, washing and banging their laundry against a rock by the side of a stream. The clothes multiply with children in the house. Not only do you find dirty clothes in the hamper, the kids throw their clean clothes in because it’s easier than putting them back in their dresser. You’ll also find toys, Barbie shoes, teacher notes, gum (my favorite..esp when it makes to the dryer), hair clips and anything else they can fit into pockets or up their nose. This is the laundry stage when the Sock Ghost appears. No matter how good your kids are at putting everything into the hamper, the Sock Ghost always manages to steal one sock from at least 3 pairs. And do you think he’d swoop down and steal the “unimportant” socks? NOOOOOOO…. He has to take the socks from their favorite pairs. You know the kind I’m talking about…the socks that they love to wear…the socks that will cause hyperventilating tantrums and heart failure if not found. I’ve almost lost a kid to two to the evilness of the Sock Ghost. There really isn’t anything you can do to exorcise the Sock Ghost (believe me, I’ve tried the Holy Water and incense..no dice). So, accept it and move on.. .it’s just easier to keep your sanity.

Along with the Sock Ghost, comes his friend the Laundry Basket from Hell. Everyone has the laundry basket(s) that become makeshift drawers for the entire family and will sit in the same location until someone (usually mom) is forced to unload it to make room for the new clean clothes. The whole family will live out of the Laundry Basket from Hell because they’re too lazy to go through their dressers or closets for clean clothes. Instead, they rummage through all the neatly folded items in the Laundry Basket from Hell to find that pink Hollister t-shirt with the white lettering on it and leave a trail of mass destruction behind.

And what happens after that?

You re-fold, then place their clothes in their bedrooms where they will sit until needed. The clothes won’t get hung (unless mom does it). The clothes won’t get placed in their dresser (unless mom does it). Instead, they will sit on the bed and then slowly become part of the comforter. Your kid won’t acknowledge that nicely folded piece of laundry. Your kid will instead slide up underneath the covers and pretend that it doesn’t exist. This stage is when you also become “bad mom”. When your kids can’t find what they are looking for and they swore they threw it in the hamper, it’s “your fault”. You and the Sock Ghost are in cahoots to make your kid’s life a living hell by hiding that Justin Bieber concert t-shirt. Bad Mom….Bad, bad mom…

At this point, all you can do is grin and bear it.

Life still goes on…the sun will still rise…the sun will still set…and there will always be dirty underwear waiting for you.

I could go on and on..but I got a date with a Sock Ghost...

Booty Pop

Call me gullible.

I just had to order them.

I want a Kim Kardashian ass.

I don't want to pay $11,000 for an ass implant, but I will pay $20 for a pair of panties that give me that "lift" I need.

Yes, I gave in and ordered the BOOTY POP undies.

You're probably wondering WTF?

Let me give you a quick recap on how this went down....

My friend Jaclyn McGill, always complained about not having a butt. She is 5'9, 110lbs and beautiful, but always complained about not having enough junk in her trunk. Recently we had lunch together with some friends and she spoke about how she received BOOTY POP as a gift. At first, I didn't know what she was referring to...a candy? A music video? A porno?

After our lunch I went back to the office and googled Booty Pop and I was pleasantly surprised to see a cute pair of panties with shapely butt padding! So..I didn't stop there. I am a researcher at heart and continued to delve deeper into reviews on this product. Everything came back positive. Then I saw a video clip of the women on The View talk about it and Kelly Ripa try it out. (Ok, Kelly Ripa is what sold me on it). I logged onto bootypop.com and watched the infomercial. The girls looked amazing in jeans wearing booty pop. I wanted to look like that! No amount of working out and doing lunges is gonna give me an ass like that!

So I'm cheating. I'm buying a pair. And the best part, I get one free!

Don't get me wrong, I don't hate my ass. I come from an Asian/Latino background. Unfortunately, I was blessed with the Asian ass, which means it's pretty much non-existent. No offense to my mother, but I would've much rather had the Latina ass in exchange for the thighs and hips. I do have a "bump"...just not a nice, plump one; a biteable one..a la Kim K. I want a video chick ass like the ones you see in rap videos. I want the ass that "...swallows up a g-string..." (ok, ok..maybe not THAT big).

I'll let you know how they work out.

If worse comes to worse, I can always use them as padding when I take up snowboarding....

Attack of the Panty Drawer

When you become a mom, practicality takes precedence over fabulosity. And this is quite evident when it comes to my underwear. I can't bear to throw away my most favorite, my most comfortable, underwear.

I will be the first to admit, I will hold on to a pair of panties for years until the elastic is ripping through and the material is almost transparent. It's sooo hard to let go. So I convince myself to just throw them back in my panty drawer and get rid of them later. From time to time, I will do my best to "clean out" my underwear drawer and this is when I start finding different types of panties and thongs and question why I never wear them...until I try them on:

-too tight

-pinches my gut in half

-rides up my buttcheeks

-squeezes my outter thigh fat

And you think I'd just get rid of 'em right??

Wrong.

I throw them back into my drawer so as not to hurt their panty feelings.

But this does give me a reason to go panty shopping.

Shopping for undergarments takes all day and it's excrutiating; kinda like standing in line at the DMV or getting your wisdom tooth pulled.

First stop: Victoria's Secret.

I ask myself what the hell am I doing in here? I browse around amongst all the 16 year olds shopping for push-up bras and lace thongs. I really don't like the way Victoria's Secret panties feel... I don't care what you call them: V-string, Brazilian cut, Very Sexy..they are all very uncomfortable. The elastic digs into my muffin top and keeps riding up my butt. They're made for women who are about 60lbs with no curves and no ass. Why don't I look like the model in the pic when I wear these panties?

I end up leaving with lipgloss and body spray.

Next stop: Fredericks of Hollywood.

Again, I ask myself what the hell am I doing here? I walk around the store and every picture seems to have a woman posing with one finger between her painted lips and every pair of panties looked like they'd be painful to wear. With names like "Naughty Knickers" and "Hollywood Exxtreme", you'd think I was getting prepped for a porn scene with Ron Jeremy. "Cotton" is a foreign word; leather, lace and crotchless? Then you're speaking their language.

I leave with mints shaped like lips and a pink hair tie.

Final Stop: Macy's.

I decide to forgo the sexy undies and stick to what makes me the happiest~ cute, cotton, bikini Jockey brand panties in the 3-pack. Very unsexy, but practical and oh-so-comfortable-- like me! And they're on sale! Woo-hoo! I'll take two! I merrily skip out of the store with my plastic white bag.

I've come to realize that my panties don't define me. I'm the sexy one, not my underwear. Nothing is sexier than a woman comfortable in her own skin and confident in who she is.

These are the moments that matter.

So bring on the ugly, high-waisted grandma panties..I'll rock those and still be stunning!

(..and then they'll join the rest of the panty posse in the back of my drawer.)