I was putting away some laundry that my mom had just washed for me; in it was about 100 pairs of these giant granny-panties that I have been having to wear since the C-section-popping-open debacle. Now, when I got pregnant, I stopped wearing my thongs and switched over to briefs (which ironically I thought of as granny-panties at the time). I don't know if I have a weird hang-up or what, but something just seemed wrong about wearing thongs while carrying an unborn child (not to mention how supremely uncomfortable they became).
Anyway, I soon came to learn that briefs are NOT grannies; there actually are Hanes-Her-Way six packs of panties that start at your thigh and go up over your belly button, all the way to your natural waist. I look at myself getting dressed when I get out of the shower and I think, "I really do look like an old lady." You know how they are very skinny, too skinny, yet they still are saggy and lumpy at the same time. They can't stand up quite straight, and the veins show through their skin. That's me. I have lost almost 50 pounds since JD was born and I got sick, but I still have pooches and bumps and swollen spots on my abdomen. My breasts are saggy, and I can't stand up fully straight from the incision yet. I pull up my granny panties and my granny bra, and I stand there and I look at this crazy body that I don't really recognize. Then I get dressed, cuddle my son, and get over myself.
But this morning as I was putting away the laundry, I was faced with a whole pile of granny panties and my underwear drawer was too full to hold any more. So I began opening other drawers, looking for a home for the grannies. I had to laugh when I found them their place... right on top of the pile of Victoria's Secret nighties and sexy stuff that I wore long long ago in a galaxy far far away. While I appreciate the irony, I wouldn't trade the grannies for anything.
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