Practical advice on attire

Dental floss should be reserved for dental floss. 'nuff said!

Busted!

I recall I posted something about my lack of modesty around the house. When the boy caught me changing with the door open he said something like, "Really??? Is it that hard to do this?" and he shuts the door. So I agreed to pay him everytime he caught me undressed as an incentive to myself to remember to close doors when I change or go somewhere private instead of, oh say the kitchen where my workout clothes are because I left them there (and oh, btw is SO convenient just to whip off my shirt and change it. Seriously! What's the big deal?)

Today husband picked me up on the way to the gym and brought my gym clothes with him and Monkeyboy. As he was dropping me off at the park on his way, I conveniently changed in the car. I was out of my business suit and into my shorts, socks, and shoes. When I whipped off my shirt to donn my sportsbra, I hear from the back seat, "BUSTED! You owe me, papa and everyone who's seen you!"

Ok buddy, for the record, I do NOT pay papa for seeing me naked!

Men in briefs. Good grief!

I went shopping last night for undershirts for the monkeyboy and accidentally picked up a package of briefs with some six pack ripped man displaying tighty whities du jour. He was fit and it was gross. I wanted to spew. People who like that sort of thing are just weird. Maybe I'm weird. Forget the maybe. I need no man to dangle for my enjoyment because honestly that's just gross. (You're welcome for the visual.) 

Yes, I can wind a catheter down to the left carotid artery, maze my way through intestines on my way towards a kidney, perform surgical feats of gross anatomy and then be famished for lunch, but men in underwear gross me out. Actually I never did mind seeing my brother and dad in their underwear. As men go, my dad has a pretty stellar physique. My brother used to get home from school and strip down to his underwear. Eh, Texas. However, in general men pictured in briefs tend to gross me out. I need a level of intimacy established (a relationship) in order to see a guy in his briefs and in that case, it ceases to be spew-worthy and becomes a perfunctory occasion for conversation. 

Women on the other hand, we have innie and outie bits and we're just a pleasurable sight, (not so much when we're decked out in creepy lingerie), but put a woman in a white terry cloth robe with disheveled hair and matching slippers and we're just too adorable! 

I've always found a woman in sleepwear a far more wholesome, appealing and irresistible sight than an airbrushed woman with silk dental floss running up her butt crack. (You're welcome for the visual.)

My kids are going to need therapy

When the family was gone this summer, I got used to many things: lots of quiet, empty fridge, clean house, not having to concern myself with modesty while in the house... mostly. I mean the windows were kind of closed. Dressing before/after a bath has never been a strength. I'd lazy up to my room with a towel on or not and dress there. I don't consider it that big a deal. Apparently monkeyboy does. So I've been trying to remember to shut my door when I change and make sure I'm dressed before I walk out from a closed room. I'm trying! I know it shouldn't be that hard but it's me! 

After bathing yesterday it occurred to me that I forgot to bring clean underclothes. At least I remembered to bring clean clothes (because my family is apparently conservatively modest), so someone give me a break. I'm trying, really I am! I made the executive decision to wrap my soggy hair in the lone towel that was in the bathroom (I can't stand being drippy and with my long wet hair that's a near impossibility!), put on my clean shirt because I'm modest (hell, who am I trying to kid) and sneak upstairs bottomless. It was 6 am. Honestly, who's up at that hour except me? As I turn the corner to go upstairs I glance back to the dining room and there sits monkeyboy rolling his eyes and shaking his head at my bare bottom.

Apparently I should have left a wet streak of water from my drippy hair instead of a mama streak.