Monkey Underwear on a Second Date?

Do you ever get self-conscious about your underwear? I do.

Today, while on a journey of errands (which included picking up keys to my new place!), I suddenly had the epiphany that the underwear I own is not really suitable for public viewing. I hightailed it over to Philene's Basement, where they were having an underwear sale.

Now, my breasts are not freakishly large, but they are out of the range of the "common cup" sizes. Finding a cute bra (let alone bras) is like chasing zebras through the Amazon. Incredibly difficult. I would rather have my toenails pulled out by monkeys than go underwear shopping.

I grabbed a bunch of stuff within reason of my size (no thongs, I think they're unhealthy, although cute), and then cursed my ex-boyfriend for shoving me back on the market again. It's not that I really want to be with someone who doesn't want me, but I would like to be with someone who has already seen my underwear and doesn't really care about it one way or the other.

I don't really have any intention of sleeping with this guy, but like my Aunt Loretta said, "Always wear matching underwear, because you just never know." Words to live by.