PSA: I'm too sexy for my blog

I have managed, in my year of blogging, to defy certain Blogging standards.

For example, this whole visual appeal thing. Just as in my real life, I am not the best dresser, it turns out I am also the dork of the blogging world, someone who cannot be bothered to figure out all the flashy gadgets and colorful gizmos that would make a page more fun to visit.

I suppose I could, if I tried real hard, but not if I also wanted my kids to have dinner, cupcakes for their class parties, rides to soccer, or anyone at their class concert, watching them sing what certainly must be the French version of 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall ("Lundi matin, le roi, la reine et le petit prince, sont venu chez moi...").

And it's OK. I've made my peace with being the lame-o blogger who STILL doesn't have decent graphics and doesn't care that this makes her look like a dork Luddite commitment-phobe. I figure I'll just write, and let you create the illustrations in your own head. Click on pretty much anything you like: it will stay the. Exact. Same. Not every day you run across something like that on a blog, is it?

I also tend to steer clear of certain, um... spicy topics, shall we call them, that other bloggers seem happy to share about at circle time.

I know you all probably think it's quite "cute" repressed prudish of me What? Was she raised by nuns? but there you go. I can't help remembering that, someday, maybe my son's teacher ("Mardi matin!") will read this and she doesn't need to know certain things about me. And the dads I walk by every morning on the way to school don't need any other images, thank you very much.

So I stick to tamer things, like my lovely kids getting sold off to crack whores and my problem with fondness for alcohol.

And yet...

Recently, I had such an incredible, earth-shattering experience, I feel compelled to share, even though it goes against my nature to be this explicit. There just is simply no way I could keep such an enormous thing to myself, not when so many women out there are fated to go their whole lives without experiencing it.

We already have so little, us women of the world, when you think about it. In the stay-at-home mom rat race, would it really be so awful to have something that put a smile on our face now and again? Mostly it's just chauffering and cooking and baking and cleaning and pretending to be listening and driving them around some more. When you find something that can bring this much happiness, this much joy, it's practically your obligation to share it, don't you think?

Because it can happen. To everyone. Like it did to me. Just out of the blue one day. And you just won't believe what you were missing the whole time, once you, too, finally find...

your perfect underwear.

Listen. I know how this looks. You are sitting there going, OK, now she has really gone and done it. She has hit the trifecta of lame: A blog without color, sex AND now, WITH granny undies? What the hell am I reading today?

But seriously. Just look at that model up there. Do you see how she's smiling? It is for real, people. It's not one of those "I'm smiling on the outside, but inside I'm just humiliated because I always thought when I grew up I was going to model undies for Victoria's Secret and just look at me now" smiles. No way. She is PSYCHED. She is even probably thinking, Man, I hope they pay me in these undies. Because they are that good.

Really. She is. I know. Because I stumbled upon those undies one fine day in Target when I was there for dog food and realized I wasn't going to have time to do laundry that day, and was out of clean underwear. So I grabbed a package.

The very next day, I rushed back to buy all the rest in the entire store.

And also the stock room.

And also would you mind calling to see if there's any on the truck coming in? Because these are the greatest things ever. And stop looking at me like I'm a crazy person. You're young - you probably don't mind having a thong stuck up your bum bum. But I am way too old for that nonsense. I want good undies that cover all the required parts - and keep them covered, darn it. None of this waking up in the middle of the night to put things back where they belong, or find subtle ways to do the same while you're walking down the busiest street in town.

None of this bending over to have the waistband of your undies sticking out over the rear waistband of your low-cut jeans that you think are also stupid, but despite all the promises of high waists coming back, you're still waiting, and forced to wear stupid low-cuts.

Best of all? Softest things ever! Like but-tah, I tell you. Try. Touch 'em. Seriously!

No! not the ones I'm wearing, you weirdo! Here, let's open a package. See? Like I told you. The best. Almost like a hug all day long. Well. If people hugged your bum, I mean, which... probably... yeah. No. Um, could you just make that call already? I'll buy as many as you can find.

And there you go. It may not be flashy here, chez Mad Mad, but sometimes, it's all about the little things. Even if they're a little pathetic.


***************************************************

The folks over at humor-blogs probably wear cool things, like thongs.