Et tu, Undies?

Y'alls. My undies are too tight.

Yes, we know when the jeans are too tight and get up in our nethers. Or the shirt is too tight and reveals the muffin tops and bra squishouts. But when the underwear is too tight... it is like a girlfriend saying to you, while at a chocolate buffet or something, "are you sure you want to eat that?"
Complete.
Total.
All encompassing.
Betrayal.

Undies are your closest clothings ever. They are literally alllll up in your business. To have them leave a mark upon thy upper thigh/side butt fat pillows is a slap on the cheek, indeed. Or you bend and they just leave you hanging...
Crack is wack, people. Why would my underwear do this to me?

Look, I can see my fault in it. I don't use woolite. 
Admitted. 
Out there.
My "lingerie" drying rack holds....nothing since it is folded and wedged under some shelves. I throw everything in the dryer. (And before you try to help me, seeing me flailing out here in the wind- they didn't shrink. I pretended that already.) So it isn't like I am completely kind to my little tighties.

So, looking out the window at the soft cascading snow, I gave myself the little pep talk we all have. The one when we 

aren't in a disgusted mood with ourselves. A touch of 
reprimand. A touch of understanding. I took the animal instinct approach. We are like bears. We are fattening to keep warm. Of course I don't want to exercise, it is against my nature in Winter. Tucking in to warmth and food to survive the long winter....Less daylight to ensure resting up.


But, do you have to hide the chocolates from the kids so you don't have to share? No. That is wrong. Let the kids eat some. And it is time to buy the kids the treats you don't like so you will stop sneaking them. 
Yes. Yes. Yes. True.
And only ONE more Little Debbie Heart cakes. One. Then move on!
(or opt for commando)