Bitches About Britches

thongMy mother practiced an excellent form of birth control for her daughters.  She only bought cheap cotton panties because “nobody is supposed to see your underwear anyway.” I don’t know how I would have behaved otherwise, but I wasn’t about to get frisky in those horrible britches.  Sometimes Mother was lucky enough to find some so cheap they didn’t have elastic in the legs, just the waist.  The fit wasn’t too bad in the morning, but by midmorning, these adventurous undies always managed to crawl up my rear. Back then, before political correctness, you might have heard me cussin’ those Injun Britches that were always creeping up on me.  I had no idea I was ahead of my time in my “thongs” and despised them.  By then end of the day, they had achieved amazing altitude and my legs felt two inches longer than when I left that morning.  They might have even taken my virginity.

Connie and Marilyn had it worse than we did, because after Grandma had a stroke, she was no longer able to do the beautiful dressmaking she was known for. She made it her mission in life to make sure they never ran out of homemade cotton panties.  She used whatever fabric was at hand, cotton prints or plaids, not soft knits.  Her creations had wide front and back as well as side seams and very narrow crotches, but alas, no elastic in the legs.  These were not roomy bloomers made of soft cotton flour sacks she made my mother in her youth.  They were torture devices.  Grandma didn’t see us for months at a time, so she underestimated their waist sizes, making the fit of the patched up drawers even worse.  The tight elastic waist and scratchy seams ensured even more misery. She could make a million if she sold them on an S&M site today. I was not jealous!

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37 thoughts on “Bitches About Britches

  1. Such an experience. Did you ever think of swapping them out ? I did this daily for a long time. Catholic school white cotton blouses revealed bra straps, or lack thereof. My mom was sure I didn’t need one (she was right, of course), but the cotton undershirt was embarrassing. I cut up an old petticoat in the shape of a proper bra; the straps looked like the real thing. I would race into the bathroom when I got to school and make the exchange. My first babysitting money went to buying my very own lingerie. Life was good. ☺

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    • My only swap out choice was commando and I never thought of that. There was no money, babysitting or otherwise. We lived in the country. Our nearest neighbor was a mile away. In the unlikely event I’d ever had a dollar, my mother would have been facing a fate worse a desperate than only my dollar could have saved her from. Literally!

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  2. Ooooh they do sound rather nasty. Mind you, if I had a bum like the one in your pic then I wouldn’t care what I worse!
    My husband’s Mum KNITTED him a pair of swimming trunks when he was little. You can imagine what happened to them as soon as they got wet! Poor little bugger was traumatised!

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  3. They may have taken your virginity! AHAHAHA! Well, I think pretty undergarments are essential to a good life, whereas my husband freaks out at pretty silky or lacy things for our girls — I’m like, “Underwear does not dictate morality,” and “Slips are a rite of passage,” Truth be told, I’m sure he’d rather they were all still in diapers!

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  4. I felt sorry for my little sister getting dressed by her Daddy every morning. In winter she looked like a European war refugee. Mom worked everyday as an elementary school teacher. Liked the story, told from a girl’s point of view. Now, about “birth control” glasses–boys had them as well as girls.

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