Of all the stressful activities I experience in a day—writing last-minute essays, deciding what to do after college/where to do it/how to do it/if I can do it—one of the greatest stresses occurs early in the morning. Around 10:15 a.m. after I wake up, take a good shower, and consider joining the rest of civilized society by getting dressed, I pick out my underwear.
The act of wearing underwear is not the issue. I am all for that. ""Say no to commando"" and ""commando is for hos"" are mottos I live by.
However, the act of choosing which pair of underwear to wear?
That's where the stress lies.
As I dig through my drawer—my inexplicably overflowing drawer of ruffled, striped, see-through and polka dot underwear—I dig through my mind: What is the root of the issue here? Why must every morning be accompanied by not only an alarm clock, but also the search for the ""perfect"" pair of underwear?
And why the heck do they even call it a ""pair""? To fit over each of my butt cheeks?
It's an unnecessary anxiety of mine that, no matter how much psychoanalysis I were to undergo, will never be erased. Unfortunately, it also adds about 13 extra minutes onto my getting-ready time. Here is why:
First, I begin by opening ""the drawer."" This drawer is filled with, at least, at least, 72 pairs of underwear... which is kind of mind-boggling. I don't even give a crap about clothes, and yet, the one garment that hardly anyone ever sees EVER (Wahhhh! Cry me a river, why don't you!) is the one I actually care about.
From there, I survey the colors before me; swirls of green, purple, red and orange flash before my eyes. This is about the time when I ask myself an extraordinarily significant question: ""How am I feeling today?""
If I'm feeling happy, possibly because I wrote a new song, lounged outside with friends or aced an essay, then I'll choose the ""happy"" colors—the vibrant reds, the jungle greens, the brilliant oranges. From there, I decide what kind of design I like most.
Is it a beautiful day out? Wear the blue sky ones.
Are you feeling kind of bold? Wear the low, thin-strapped orange ones.
Are you feeling brand-spanking new? Wear the polka-dot ones you got yesterday.
But if I'm feeling sad because my computer printer isn't working, I spilled orange juice on my sofa or haven't crapped in days, then I'll choose the ""sad"" colors—the somber blacks, the murky grays, the dusty browns. And sometimes, if I'm really sad—I mean really, really sad—I'll go into my hidden stash: the ""I-messed-up-a-load-of-laundry-good-job"" stash. This stash is a mixture of washed-up colors, torn up waistbands and stretched-out bottoms. I mean, if you're gonna feel like shit, you might as well complete the picture and look like one too! Yeah!! That's the spirit!
Thirteen minutes later, a decision is made and my underwear is on. By this point, I am itching to grab some breakfast and head out the door. As I step onto the grassy knoll of the great outdoors, I look out at the sun, the trees and the day before me. With my jacket, book bag and overly thought-out pair of underwear, I am ready. The world is my oyster.
What kind of underwear are you wearing? E-mail Bonnie the answer at gleicher@wisc.edu. She's not creepy, she swears.
