By: Blonde Two

Things have been getting a bit too serious and grown-up recently in the World-of-Blonde so today I have a treat for you.  Today I am going to take you on a tour of my underwear drawer (it’s ok, I have just tidied it).  As I am sure you appreciate, many have tried to get near to this particular box of delights but only a very few have succeeded. Consider this tour an gift from me to you dear Blondees and Blondettes, a once in a lifetime opportunity, never to be repeated.

The reason for this somewhat unusual tour is that when I am going walking, the underwear drawer presents a myriad of tricky decision making processes.  Like many Blondes (and indeed people), my brain doesn’t function too well at 6.15 in the morning so, like all good leaders, I have to plan a route through the underwear drawer the night before.

Shall we start at the bottom? (no, not the bottom, I meant the socks!)  I have two pairs of identical walking socks.  This is not enough pairs for a serious walker, but the restricted number does make the choosing process a lot easier.  Walker beware though!  At the bottom of this drawer lurks a miscreant, a ne’er do well, an imposter, in the shape of a cheap grey sock that looks exactly like the lovely walking ones.  One momentary drop in concentration during selection can lead to a whole day of foot-related discomfort.

Next we are drawn, inextricably to the knicker section of the drawer.  I know I talk about my knickers a lot but I can think of few equipment mistakes that can be worse than wearing uncomfortable pants for a whole day’s walking.  Although I like to think that, as I get older (obviously only a tiny bit older each year) my bottom does not get bigger, it has to be admitted that my knickers do.  I blame walking entirely – every time I am in M&S (other underwear retailers are available) looking longingly at little, satiny, lacy pairs, I find myself imagining how they would feel and look under my leggings after being dunked in a Dartmoor bog.  Even worse, I try to calculate exactly how much of the lace and satin would disappear in a walking induced wedgie.  I must pause here to share Wikipedia’s definition of this modern phenomenon “… a wedgie occurs when a person’s nether garments are wedged between the buttocks.”  There is probably a formula to work out the “wedgie factor” that goes something like;

metre of lace x shininess of satin x distance walked/height gain = depth of wedgie

You have already met (in the metaphorical sense) my favourite walking pants.  They are no-nonsense black, have not one jot of lace or satin and come right up to my belly button.  There is no way that even my plentiful buttocks would be able swallow as much as a millimetre of these bad-boys!   I had a small issue with them the other day – Blonde One and I, if you remember, were planning a quick escape from work to Dartmoor. This meant that said walking pants needed to be donned underneath working clothes.  I managed to get half way through the day before I realised that although the knickers reached my belly button, the trousers over them didn’t.  Luckily I don’t usually take my top off at work so nobody else noticed this less than attractive arrangement.

We will leave the nether regions now and ascend to the heights.  Some women are bra collectors, I am not.  I have one style (in a variety of colours) that are for, shall we say, presentation purposes and one (in sensible black) that is for control purposes.  You can guess which one is for walking – I wear mascara on the hills but draw the line at bouncy boobs.  Again, the other day, I was presented with a dilemma; Should I wear the walking bra to work all day and be sadly disappointed with my frontage or should I wear the presentation bra and feel out of control on the way up the hill?  It is testament to how busy the day turned out to be that I can’t actually remember but I am trusting that Blonde One would have told me if I had forgotten to wear either.

I hope you have enjoyed this tour.  I will lock my underwear drawer again now and promise not to mention knickers for … oh, at least two days … Ironic that my longest blog post this year turns out to be about undies!

Footnote:  The author reserves the right to avoid mentioning certain items residing in the aforementioned underwear drawer.