In the old B.C. world (*before COVID-19), I avoided television news and was somewhat discriminating about what I read in the daily newspaper. You can only take so much negative news about crime, inept politicians, consumer scams, opioid death statistics, and rising taxes before you’re reaching for the nearest kitchen knife to slit your wrists. It’s all too depressing. Then, the sky fell—for real. Tragic as the world situation is, it’s impossible to watch television or read a newspaper on a continuous drip of gloom and dread and still hoist your aging boomer backside out of bed in the morning. So, let’s try and lighten things up a bit.
Haven’t you wondered lately:
- Where are Prince Harry and Meghan living this week? Kelowna? Moose Jaw? Jane and Finch?
- Is Jennifer Anniston is still trying to have a baby with newly-single baby-dad Brad?
- What’s the price of gas—not that we can go anywhere?
- Does drinking kale juice cause cancer?
- Will my RRSPs last as long as I will?
- What on earth is going on in the world of bad fashion? Now that sweats and gray roots are back in style, are there some “Don’ts” I’m missing and should know about?
There are just so many important issues that have been upstaged by COVID-19. The newspapers are wall-to-wall filled with nothing but rising numbers of fatalities, political mishandling, tragedy, and despair. Television news is similarly focused on that one topic. Other things must surely be happening in the world, but we’ll have to wait a few months to find out.
So, I thought you could use a bit of levity during the current armageddon. I came across one of my old postings the other day from a couple of years ago when we could still go to the mall, which I hope puts a smile on your isolated, makeup-free face.
What’s up in men’s underwear?
Have you taken a close look at men’s underwear lately, other than what turns up in your weekly laundry, which, we really don’t want to look too closely at? I had occasion to peruse the men’s lingerie section of a major department store the other day (*B.C.) and I can’t tell you how much fun it was. The names the marketing people come up with to describe men’s skivvies are just too hilarious. They surely deserve a Nobel Prize for creative fiction. The brand names are all riffs on size, power, and even calibre! Check these out:
What I didn’t see was:
- Rust belt
I don’t think I’ve ever seen women’s underwear with similarly ambitious names. Our frillies are usually just called “Thong, Bikini, Hi-rise leg” or a similar fairly obvious description. Maybe there’s an opportunity here for creative marketers to jump on the bandwagon with new names for women’s underwear:
- Stud buster
- Steel magnolia
- You wish
- Secret treasure
- In your dreams
Men’s underwear names are ego-enhancing and denote power, which I am pretty sure is not always reflective of the contents or the wearer. But then, most women know men’s egos need constant stroking! Baby boomer women were raised to be good listeners. As soon as we started dating we were coached to ask our dates about themselves, and they were only too happy to oblige, for hours and hours and hours. We’ve already proven our staying power.
I know it’s always risky to generalize but when I read about dates-gone-bad in the agony columns in local newspapers, the challenges never change. Even enlightened millennials are forced to suffer through painful first dates with guys who are so self-absorbed it never occurs to them that we might have something of value to say as well. “All he did was talk about himself; his work, his car; his sports” is a common complaint from women in the dating market. And guys wonder why they’re ghosted.
Some things never change, including what’s up in men’s underwear. Until attitudes change and women start insisting upon proof in advertising, we’ll just have to double-check for inferior goods and not fall for false claims. If they aren’t willing and happy to meet us on equal ground and recognize that we’re also worthy of such labels as Heroine, Boss Lady or Conqueror, then just leave ’em on the shelf for some other less discriminating poor soul. Thank heavens we were born women and don’t have to suffer the stress of constantly stroking our ego, through our underwear.
If that didn’t cheer you up a bit, how about this picture of me in a turban (which, when flipped on its end, could also function as a Christmas tree) on a bad-hair day during quarantine? It was created by my friend Perry. She even nailed the red fingernails (which are definitely *B.C.) and glasses. Perry’s been experimenting with computer graphics during her home incarceration, which means she is a whole lot more productive than I’ve been. It sure made my day. You can check out more of her art by clicking here.