My mom always told us to wear our good clean underwear whenever we left the house. I figured it was so I wouldn't look like a street urchin when I stripped in gym class or was in an accident. Either she was in the minority (which I doubt) or some girls in high school either didn't have nice undies (a possibility) or didn't give a shit that their panties and bras were holey, dirty or both (also a strong possiblity).

At any rate the lesson stuck. I still don nice underwear when I leave the house, though sometimes I bitch to myself that I'm only running out to the store or bank and will be back in a flash. Nobody will see that my undies have holes in them. Maybe yes, maybe no.

A news bulletin the other day hammered home the fact that what hugs your skin could be bared for all the world to see.

During a bank heist, the armed robbers ordered everyone in the bank to strip to their underwear. Not only would this be terrifying, it'd be mortifying for a good many people--me included. I mean, here you are amid a bunch of strangers with guns aimed at you. Men and women wearing a variety of underwear from subdued to sexy, clean to soiled, new to tattered.

Then the cops arrive and the standoff begins. Then the news media swarms in. And suddenly there you are on TV in old boxers with tobacca stains on the butt, holey panties, or a frayed bra with a safety pin securing one strap.

Yep, do as mom says. Wear your good clean underwear when you leave the house. Ya just never know. ~~Jan