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Pranks On Me

a toilet

Is there a lesson to be found?


In the last half hour my mood improved by about 300 percent, and all it took was a wedgy that I gave to myself.

I’ve been grouching around all morning and into the afternoon. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, until I realized I had what I thought was a stray tag sticking me in the derriere.

One of the things I did when I lost weight was to go to Victoria’s Secret to buy my unmentionables. I found after losing a hundred pounds and nursing a child way longer than my extended family preferred, my girls needed a little extra help. I also found grunders that managed to fit my rounded posterior end without leaving horrible panty lines.

Before the weight loss, I never ventured into the place. I was pretty sure that I wouldn’t have been able to find underwear that fit and who needed the embarrassment of a overly perky sales girl telling me she couldn’t help me. It has been a sweet love affair with the pretty stuff, even though my wallet takes a hit. I head in under the guise of coupons, and interestingly enough I don’t get many complaints from Lyle about spending money on bras and underwear.

The only problem is that Vic keeps changing the style of her merchandise, which is peculiar because my butt hasn’t changed a whole lot in the last three years. I know it’s all about marketing, but as a loyal consumer with issues about the dimples on her ass, I would be forever grateful if Victoria simply stuck with a good thing.

I’m flexible and open minded, and I try not to hoard all the underwear in my size when I find a style I like, but damn it’s hard. I thought I made it out of there relatively unscathed the last time until just today when I put on a pair that caused the chaos.

Some moron sewed clear sequins onto the cotton lace. What the hell? I thought I missed a little plastic price tag or something. But no, they tried to spruce things up with a little twinkle. I’m already about as sparkly as I can stand.

One might think that the appropriate place to discover this may be the bathroom, but alas I decided I could endure no more while I was in the garage searching for a pry bar for Lyle as he killed time on top of our roof waiting patiently to repair a few shingles.

I twisted around and yanked my underwear up like the meanest bully in fifth grade still thinking it was a tag that poked me in the ass. That’s when I found the true culprit. Give me a break. I put the tool search on hold and ran to the bathroom for a presto chango. Whew, I feel great.

Maybe it really is the little things that cause us the most grief. All I know now is that I feel that I can now function within the confines of my environment without ripping anyone’s head off. Maybe I should give myself an old fashioned swirly to see if I find any enlightenment in the depths of the toilet bowl.

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3 Responses

  1. Hilarious!!! I was rolling in the floor. You is soooo funny!! Glad you got your undie situation under control and banned that pair to the corner for a while. Miss you!

  2. Thanks for checking in! Sometimes I guess we all need a little attitude adjustment.

  3. LOL

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