Underpants: A Rant
After scolding my daughter to quit picking at her butt for the last 3 weeks, I finally realized that she was doing it because her underwear were too small.
Yet another Super Mom Moment. Poor thing. So I went to Kohl’s and bought her the next size up.
The new ones are too big.
She was wearing a 4, which is too small. The 6’s are too big. That is unacceptable because she will still pick at her butt, just for different reasons. And besides, should anyone have to suffer with ill-fitting underwear? That’s not necessary. However, there is a gigantic difference between a 4 and a 6, which the clothing people apparently do not realize.
(note: I took a picture of the aforementioned giant size difference, but then thought perhaps posting my daughter’s underwear was not the Best Idea Ever.)
There is also a big difference between girls sizes and boys sizes, which I know because
there were all those times there was that one time when all her underwear were dirty and I had to stick her in a pair of her brother’s (good gravy, did I just admit that? It’s why I buy everyone, like, 25 pairs. Because we are so on top of the laundry around here), and her brother’s undies fit just fine. The difference between boys and girls clothing sizes is something I could rant about for hours. It’s so aggravating. I shall try to restrain myself.
So now I have this dilemma whether to buy a separate batch of boys underwear for her, hoping somehow to be able to keep them separate, because I may not have many lines, but I will draw one at group underpants; or search high and low and spend a bazillion dollars to find little girl’s size 5 underwear.
And while we’re on the subject (apparently interminably, poor readers), why do I have to hunt so hard to find underwear that is not emblazoned with Hannah Montana? Or High School Musical? Or SpongeBob (that cretin)?
I googled Little Girls Underwear, with my hands over my eyes, a little apprehensive about what sort of results that combination of words would yield.
Per the internets suggestion, I took myself off to Old Navy, armed with my wallet, iPhone, and a purse stuffed with representative panties that are too big/too small.
That’s right, gentle readers. I am the lady in Old Navy surreptitiously opening little packets of impossibly tiny underpants and holding them up against other underpants that I fished out of my purse.
I am a class act, people.
In the end, I decided against the girls extra-small bikinis that would probably fit her, because I have an aversion to putting my 4 year old baby into bikinis. She’s four! I might be willing to go with a hipster or slightly low-rise brief, but not a bikini. I swear, the day I see thong underwear in the little girl department, I will have an aneurysm.
I found some non-bikini undies in the toddler department and they fit just fine.
And that concludes this endlessly fascinating foray into underpants shopping.
Or maybe it was just endless.
Ah, well. They can’t all be winners.