Goodbye Thong, Hello Granny Panties….

It’s Monday, and it’s time to reunite with my loyal readers….although, I know some of you are taking a break from my posts or behind as life has decided to interrupt the most glorious part of your day, which should be reading your daily dose of my wife’s wild and crazy antics.  To my friend, who I will call Shari to protect her identity, Whitney is happy she has found her way into your decision making process.  If she could type my blog for me, she would tell you the following:

When you happen upon a decision of any sort, ask yourself not whether Whitney would think it’s cool, but instead, ask yourself what Heath would think, and then you simply do the opposite.  This has worked for me for 10 years. 

In the sentiment of Whitney’s Wild and Crazy Pregnancy, I offer this submission to LifeasIknowit.

Women in large groups are probably the single scariest thing that can happen.  Women in large groups all feed off of each other and plant these things I call “Ideas” into one another’s heads.  I have mentioned for years that I tried to curb Whitney’s horrible habit of reading, because it seemed to cause her to grow intellectually.  Unfortunately, I was unable to do so, and as fate would have it, she is now smarter than I am.  In an effort to stave off any more growth in her brain housing group, I have made her transition to reading only erotic fiction.  A positive result from this switch is that I am certain that 50 Shades of Grey is a huge player in the fact that my wife is pregnant right now (I never heard more shame ridden giggling than I did those few weeks that she read the series).

Back to the lecture at hand:  Whitness’s baby shower was yesterday; and in all accounts, it was an expertly thrown and conducted evolution.  Whitney was raving about the entire party, and she came home with a cornucopia of awesome gifts.  She also came home with a revelation that I am not as excited about….a decision made solely for her comfort and general happiness, without so much as a second thought to my opinion:  Goodbye Thong, and hello Granny Panties…..As she told me her thoughts, I pictured her and 20 other girls talking about the granny panty switch.  I do not think this scenario really happened, but in my head all of these women were super excited about the prospects of granny panties in Whitney’s life.  This shot down my earlier fantasy that a baby shower was a bunch of scantily clad women having a pillow fight…Nope, instead it was like a modern day quilting bee where all of the quilters attempt to coerce the sexy pregnant quilter it is time to go granny.  (Again, I have no evidence even pointing to the women in attendance at the party having even discussed granny panties; conversely, I have no evidence that the party wasn’t, in fact, scantily clad women all having a massive pillow fight). 

People, granny panties don’t bother me that much; she’ll rock the hell out of some granny panties (hopefully, I can get her some Wonder Woman ones and she can pretend to fly in an invisible plane, and lasso me up).  I should have seen it coming when Whitney came home Friday with what I call either a Pregnatard, or a Pregnancy Straight Jacket.  She has these elastic type bands running all over her body now that are meant to help support her baby belly.  It is like S&M gone tragically wrong.  2012, and this is the best they can do….I told her I wish it restrained her arms more so that it acted more like a straight jacket—that would be awesome.  The best part is the front of the box says, “So comfortable, you’ll forget you’re wearing it!”  Whitney might forget, but I won’t.   The coolest thing about the Pregnatard is that it looks a bit like she is a pregnant mummy who has just unwound most of the wrapping she had on.  It fills my “pregnant mummy” check box on my bucket list of things to do…. 

Everything is happening so fast.  I swear to God, as Whitney stands around in her Pregnatard, I can see the baby moving inside of her.  I worry that Baby Shakes, is going to punch through the thing.   I am certain I created a superhero, because this girl can kick.  I can almost play rock paper scissors with her and see what symbol she is holding up through the belly.   

So, my day ended with the Granny Panty Revelation of 2012, and it started equally crazy. 

I walked into the bedroom and found Whitney sitting on the bed.  Here is the conversation that unfolded:

Heath:  Good morning, Whitney

Whitney:  Good morning, Heath.  (In the same breath) You forgot to tell me Happy 17 Days until My Birthday, Happy 26 Weeks, and Happy Baby Shower Day.

Heath:  Wow, I don’t think I have been set up for success here.

Whitney:  All three of these things warrant individual recognition, you know, well apparently you don’t.

This conversation should have forecasted that by the end of the day, Whitney, her mom, and I would be in Wal-Mart in a full on granny panty hunt.  It was like a weird version of Wizard of Oz as we trekked down the aisles. 

So, for those of you who are out shopping, from now on, you should be asking yourself, “Would Whitney think these granny panties are cool?”  First stop this weekend for me is the local Fredericks of Hollywood where I have heard they sell some really sleazy granny panties—this is gonna be awesome.

I just wanted you to know, because I have been holding it in for years.