Controversial Underpants

When I composed my previous entry, I never considered that it might strike controversy (minor as it is, roll with it for the sake of this post) between those who wash brand spanking new underwear and those who don't, prior to their use. I'm such a lover of the way newly purchased clothes fit and feel that first time they're worn; before the evils of soap, water, dryer, air dry, and dry cleaners alter the fabric, no matter how minor the alteration. It also got me to thinking about all the things that strangers, and their questionable hands have touched. Handled things that have come into contact with my body in some way.

Like, for instance, the fast food cashier who handles my money then proceeds to pack up my food to go. And when I say "to go", I mean in my mouth. Money that could have seen the inside of an exotic dancer's thong or used as a vehicle to get some blow into someone's nose.

Or the clerk at the cosmetics counter who gives you a makeover. Without a sink in sight.

Or the salon basin where your hair is being washed. Right after Sweaty McNeck-Hair man.

And all of the restaurants utensils and plates we're trusting weren't sneezed or coughed on (or at least hands that were not touching them that have been sneezed or coughed on OR WORSE) somewhere between the industrial strength dishwasher and our table.

It never crossed my mind that a sealed package of panties would put my vagina in peril. Like say, the mechanical bull at The Saddle Ranch on Sunset Blvd. But that's a whole 'nother story.