This is my blog...

...there are many like it, but this one is MINE!

So if I want to talk about my underwear, that's precisely what I will do.
Ladies and gentleman, after a TEN YEAR hiatus, I am back in thr "briefs camp".
I know this may come as a shock to many, but I cannot continue to live my life under false pretenses.
Anyone who's been keeping an eye on my laundry should have seen it coming miles away.
I've been into briefs ever since I can remember. It all started with some batman and superman briefs I had.
I was only briefly allowed to wear the GI JOE briefs. But I wore them.
One day, in a fit of pride, I decided that I'd no longer allow my mother to buy me undies. After all, I was 11!
So as I grew, my boxers stayed the same size. And after a while, they began binding me.
My remedy for this was to walk around with my hand in my pocket, and dig the elastic out of my groin whenever it got too uncomfortable. My parents thought I was a chronic masturbator. This is only clear to me now, 11 years later.
One day, my dad who was usually busier than a Cuban mechanic woke me up before he left for work.
Dad: Adam?
I was determined to fake asleep.
Me: *groan?*
Dad: Adam, wake up for a second...
Me: Huuuh?
Dad: Your mother asked me to speak to you...
Me: *groan*
I knew it was coming.
Dad: Your mother thinks that...well...
I'm thinking : JUST SPIT IT OUT, ALREADY!
Dad: Your mother thinks that you're rubbing yourself. I told her that's crazy, but she wanted me to make sure...You're not...are you?
I was nearly dying of laughter inside, but I decided to spare the poor man.
Me: My underwear....
Dad: What?
Me: *groan* I need...new...underwear...it's too tight....
I think at this point, my dad did a back hand spring.
Dad: You're underwear! Of course! I'll buy you some today, and then we'll get some that you like on Wednesday.
Me: *groan* MmKay.
Dad: Have a nice day.
Me: UghhhhhRGgha....

And so that weekend I bought my first pair of boxers. Flannel boxers. I was so into flannel because I thought I was Corey Matthews. I was in love with Tyra Banks, Whitney Houston, this one older model from my Mom's Chadwick's catalog, and of course: TOPANGA!!
So naturally, my boxers were flannel. And they felt funny. In a great way. Anyhow, fast forward several years and I graduated to boxer briefs. I rode those forever and a day (first pair was by Chereskin, ironically, I bought a navy Chereskin suit my freshman year of college). Next I ventured back to straight cotton boxers because I could change pants in a crowded room of my brothers without having one of my brothers wonder if he's gay because he accidentally saw my form fitting boxer briefs for a split second. Around this same time, I began a more active lifestyle, walking more and playing ball more. I did this because I was a fat lard. Heavier than I ever have been. So I went up a size in boxers, but if you know boxers, for some reason, they skip a size. It's so weird. XL is 38-40, XXL is 42-44 DOUBLEYOU-TEE-EFF?! So I aired (pun intended) on the larger side, and there began the debacle. Also, I have no butt. Thanks Dad. I have no butt. Apparently my dead grandfather didn't have a butt either. So even if the right size were there, there'd be extra fabric. And there was. Now...I don't think I need to diagram the chaffing process that occurs with excess fabric and baggy jeans and inner-thigh friction. So I won't. But that was the LAST STRAW. It even began an unhealthy fixation with Lotrimin, because I thought that I had constant jock itch (reverting to Adam @ 11 years old), and I was known in private private circles for...circling my privates...scratching. And this was all due to the what, the boxers, the what? The boxers! And I don't know how it happened...but miraculously, perhaps as an emergency backup, or just to feel sexy, I bought some regular old tighties. They weren't whiteys...I can't stand white underwear...I had red and grey and blue and black...a four-pack, I think...and one day, that tragic emergency came, and all my boxers were in laundry Hell, and I donned the tighties. I think the clouds parted, and I heard a voice from Heaven praising my deed. I knew from that point forward that I would never return to the bondage of boxers. There are practical and propriety reasons for wearing boxers, and on certain occasions, I may find it more appropriate to wear boxers...but you best believe that I am on the way to Wal-Mart RIGHT NOW to stock up on these wonderful elastic garments. Talk about the bride of your youth! There's just no THERE, there anymore! Why hadn't I understood this before? Talk about support! Portability. Have you ever folded boxers?! Do you know how much drawer-space boxers take up?!
Aww shucks. It's a revolution.
Fruit of the LOOM!

DISCLAIMER: I am not into thongs or bikinis. I'm talking about regular old-skool tightey whiteys, minus the "whitey" (no offense to my readers of the caucasian persuasion.

The End.

Ask for me tomorrow, and you will find me a [supported] man.
-Mercutio; Romeo + Juliet