Any woman of size, (to use the politically correct term), will tell you-never, under any circumstances wear new underwear when going out in public. Especially if said underwear are the new lacy semi-boycut kind. I had forgotten about having these so I decided to put them on this morning. Mistake number one. I knew once I had them on I’d be fighting them all day, yet, I was determined to conquor the roll down.
You do know what the roll down is, don’t you? If not, let me explain. When you’re a little chunky and your panties are the least bit silky or lacy, roll down occurs. Panties are supposed to fit just below the belly button-right? And stay there. With the roll down, it can either happen suddenly, or, gradually throughout the day. I had managed to keep said panties in place, until I stopped to get gas. Wearing a skirt. At noon. On my way to a job interview.

As soon as I got out of the car it happened. Roll down number one. I proceed to pump my gas, standing as still as possible. I put the pump back. Roll down number two. I had about 50 feet to walk into the store and pay for my gas. I walk as slow as possible. Squeezing my legs together. Then I feel air. Air on my ass since the top of my crack is now peeking out above Satan’s panties. By the time I get back to my car the panties are now down to the top of my thighs. I get in my car and attempt the pull-up maneuver. I manage to get them almost all the way up and decide to stop there since I didn’t want the people around me thinking I was playing with myself. I make it to the interview, still walking as if I have the ‘roids, all the while thinking to myself, “Mr., my bare ass is hanging out of my underwear and all you can talk about is cold calling people to sell windows.” I couldn’t wait to get home. In fact, I’m pouring gasoline on the panties as we speak and burning them in honor of all chunky chicks around the world.