Underwear on Saturdays - A Repost

Because I was asked about an incident in my younger days...

As many of you may know, or will soon know after this short story, I have lost quite a bit of weight in the past six months. About 30 pounds, or so. And during this time many of you (AJ) have been telling me to buy clothes that fit. Well, for the most part I have. I went out and bought all new clothes for work. Pants, shirts, belt.

Well, what I haven't bought is shorts. Just didn't seem like a high priority on my list. This priority has changed recently.

On this past Saturday, while visiting a friend, I was asked to help move some furniture for her mother to an upstairs apartment. I grudgingly obliged. The furniture was all solid oak and, as you can imagine, quite impossibly heavy.

There, looming above me, was the biggest, heaviest armoire I had ever seen, or had been asked to move up a flight of stairs. After several deep breaths, and much griping, I grabbed on to the bottom of this armoire and hefted it up (lifting with the knees). My friend's uncle had the top and backed his way up the large flight of stairs. Not wanting to stop the momentum we had going, we continued our way into the apartment. Of course she wanted it all the way into the back bedroom. Again, with momentum on our side, and knowing that if we stopped, we'd never want to lift the infernal piece again, we continued our doomed march.

That is when it began to happen. There was no stopping it - not without dropping this monstrosity, crushing the very fabric of an old woman's life. MY SHORTS BEGAN TO DROP!

Yes, folks, it was a decision between dropping an heirloom, or dropping trowel. You all know me - I did the right thing. I let the shorts drop where I was standing.

Let's get this picture straight now. Uncle Jim holding onto one end of a giant piece of oak, me holding the other end with my shorts around my ankles - and standing right behind me? You guessed it - his sister, my friend's mother! Now that you all have that mental image to disturb you for the rest of your day, picture this: I WAS GOING COMMANDO THAT DAY!

Yes, my friends, freeballin'! The one day I decide, to hell with underwear! Who needs 'em? Not me, by golly! Now, by this time, mom has run out of the room screaming, uncle Jim thinks she is going to have a heart attack and drops the armoire, leaving me holding the bag on the other end - quite literally, in fact. I quickly reach for the wayward shorts, pull them up and look around with my most convincing face of innocence I could conjure. It's not working.

I proceed to quickly walk out of the room with the air of non-chalance, right past mom - who can no longer look me in the face, (I don't know where she was looking, now! Be nice.) I walk downstairs to where I am met by her daughter. Now I just flashed her mother, and I can't look her in the face. Mere minutes later, mom walks down and proceeds to tell her daughter that she saw my frank and beans, to which much laughter ensued. She then continued the harangue by explaining that it was the nicest set of frank and beans she's seen in years. I was overjoyed!

Friends, I now have new shorts, and will never listen to the little devil telling me it's ok to not wear underwear on a Saturday!

Tuesday July 11, 2006 - 12:34am (EDT)