I’ve written about a lot of weird stuff in my life, but today is probably up there on the list. That being said, this morning was deemed a granny panty day. For the record, I abhor the word “panty” and typically only use it only in combination with the aforementioned “granny” before it. I assume I’ll break that rule multiple times by the end of this post. Before we delve into the story, for the record, I own about one pair of granny panties, and usually prefer to go the thong route myself.
So, there are these panties that I’ve had for YEARS. They aren’t huge panties, by any stretch, but as a thong user, these don’t get much use because they are butt-cover panties. I already have a sad excuse for a rear end (all boobs, no ass at all) so I have always decided to go with no panty lines and keep things back there as neat and tidy as possible. No panty lines, no wedgies…just smooth. These panties were a gift from my mom’s mom, and I’ve had them probably 20 years. That being said, they have remained in my drawer, and despite having them so long, they haven’t seen much wear until somewhat recently. My grandmother always got my mom beautiful, dainty and lacy underwear for Christmas each year. I can’t tell you which year I received my first pair of undies from her, but this pair was it. They were black, covered my butt, and had some lace. These were not sexy panties…oh no. These were practical panties with a little lace to convince yourself you weren’t going full on practical.
At the time I received them, I thought they were nice enough, but felt a hair embarrassed my grandmother had gotten me undies, plus shunned them a bit because they were practical briefs…and I had already learned girls with no asses were prone to one cheeked wedgies. Plus, I felt chubby (my god I wish I was as fat now as I thought I was back then…I was about 120 lbs!) so these panties just symbolized my issues with weight. That being said, they were luxuriously soft and comfortable. I relegated such a practical item to the back of my drawer.
Multiple moves, over multiple states, and still those panties came along for the journey. I suppose I kept them because my grandmother had given them to me and I’m a sentimental person. She lived 3000 miles away, but somehow had always made me feel close and loved. She was one of my favorite people, and damn it, if she gave me granny panties, I was gonna keep them, even if I didn’t wear them! That is, I didn’t wear them, until I did.
When I was pregnant, those were a favorite, because they were the perfect level of snug but still comfortable and stretchy, not to mention oh so soft. They took me through medical issues, hospital stays, weight gain, weight loss, and days when I just felt like I needed to be cozy. They weren’t the sexiest, but they were pretty. They felt a bit magical, because they always fit perfectly, no matter what size I was, and their softness made me happy.
Today, I went to grab underwear out of my drawer and my hand felt the softness of the pair my grandmother gave me all those years ago. I slipped them on…after all, it’s a cold, dreary Monday and a girl could use some soft comfort. It reminded me of how her gift has lasted me all these years, and went from being sort of shunned in my young stupidity, to being a favorite in my later years. I felt silly for my early reaction, and mulled over that these panties had meant more to me, and taught me more than I expected. I learned that comfort and practicality is so very important. Quality is important. Happiness with small things in life is important. These make me happy.
Such a silly thing, really, finding happiness in a pair of underwear gifted by a now deceased but always beloved person. Who knew that one could learn a lesson from such a gift. They truly are my “granny panties” but I wouldn’t have it any other way.