Finally. FINALLY. I was down to my third and final pair of osteo pants, and all I could do was pray to the Gods of Underwear that THIS WOULD BE IT.
I couldn’t afford another session of my vagina eating my pants. Or having pants which looked like I’d just pissed myself. Or pants which were a bit, um, “flappy”.
Wednesday evening’s appointment, I put on my size 12 Sloggi “boy shorts” pants, made sure the pant liner was a tiny one and not likely to give me an unexpected wax, and headed out. THANK THE GOOD GODS it was all ok. Dry, covered, patch-free, liner hidden and IT WAS GOOD. I spent the entire session trying NOT to point out how effective my pants were being. Which was hard, because when you’ve finally cracked something which has been bothering you, you want to tell people about it, no?
Well I didn’t tell him, but I did grin a whole lot.
I guess, on reflection, that may have seemed a bit weird, as I naturally felt more comfortable and relaxed throughout the session. I didn’t feel the need to wave my arms around a whole lot (“Look! Up here! I’m wearing a crap bra which my boob is probably going to fall out of because this bra is stupidly a bit too big, but that’s got to be better than watching a vagina eat pants, right?”) which was great. I relaxed better, which would obviously mean more effective treatment.
But I do recall grinning a whole lot.
I wasn’t sure if he was hinting at something, when he then started telling me the story of a girl who had been stalking him an awful lot. Like, pretty much tailing him for weeks, like a psycho. I then wasn’t sure whether to tell him that I’m not a psycho, and that I’m just really happy that my pants are big and not sweaty. But I thought that might sound weird to someone else, so I just opted to continue grinning broadly.
Then he told me he had broken up with his girlfriend, but then got back together with her soon after.
At this point, I decided to change tactic and went back to waving my arms around a lot, which I think helped, because then everyone stopped thinking about my pants. Not that he was thinking about my pants, but it reassured me in pretending that no one was thinking about my Osteo Pants.
So well done, Sloggi, you are the winners. Now I just need to order a load more but in different colours, because I don’t want Andrew to think I wear the same pants all the time, because that would be gross. Much like at today’s appointment (yes, 2 appointments a week for a while because my body is fuuuuuuuucked) when I dropped my trousers and realise I was wearing, what looked like, the same pants. They WEREN’T the same pants. It’s just that I’d taken a gamble and bought two pairs of the Sloggis, because they looked so comfy. So naturally when Wednesday was an Osteo Pants success, I planned on wearing the other Sloggis for today’s appointment.
…hey Andrew? If you ever read this? I was not wearing the same pants twice.