(I originally wrote this in July, but am just getting around to publishing it.)
Three months out from TLH/BSO (thanks, cancer!), and I finally feel comfortable trying to wear jeans for the first time. Since the surgery, it's been flowy dresses and loose capri cotton pants. This was mainly due to the fact that I didn't want to put pressure on my waist and abdomen area. (I have 2 little scars - one on each side of my belly button.)
You'd think breaking my Jeans Virginity would be an exciting day, a noble one, and a moment in time worth celebrating. You'd be wrong! Why?
The dreaded panty. That sassy little piece of loincloth that was invented to...what was it invented for? According to Wikipedia: "Panties (in the USA and Canada) or knickers (in the UK and Commonwealth) or undies (in Australia and New Zealand) are a form of underwear, usually light and snug-fitting, designed to be worn by women or girls in the area directly below the waist." Apparently, it started out as a hygiene issue.
But I digress...
Here I am on Jeans Day, and I'm in pain. Not from the surgery, but from the plastic that's rubbing against my skin right at my waist! You see, the underwear elastic falls at the same place where my scars are. And my jeans, in their kindness, sit right on top of that. I came home that day very red, and very uncomfortable. So much for the expected feeling of elation at wearing normal-folk clothing post-hysterectomy.
I looked through my drawer, and it turns out I have exactly 4 pair of underwear that have cotton covering up the elastic. Woot!
I look at the tag: Avenue. I jump in my car, run down to the store, and show them a pair. The girl says, "I've never seen those." I tell her I got them in the past year, and she says, "I've been working here a month, and I've never seen them."
I end up talking to the manager, who tells me they stopped making the type I have. How tragic! No more protected bellies! You have nothing separating your precious skin from the evils of elastic (trust me on this one...for those of you about to cry, "I have no such thing touching my skin!" -- reach down, I bet you do).
I've since been to Old Navy and Lane Bryant, and these mystical cotton-elastic-hiding panties are sadly, nowhere to be found.
Rise up! Surely there are many women out who want the soft feel of cotton against their battle scars, who yearn to wear jeans without fear of discomfort.
Who's with me?