Finally somebady has needed help from Mittons ! I have received this letter and true to my word, as Motar taught me, “I can help you!”. If you also have advice to give, please add it below in the comments section.

Please Help Me Mittons.

Things have become tense between me and my favourite printed underpants. Whenever we’re together, it just feels awkward and scrunched up. It never used to be like this. There was once a bond between us that Lucifer himself could not break! Now it’s all furtive looks and mopey glances, straight to bed without tea, and a wet sympathy pillow in the night across the face. I’m even beginning to think of taking my underpants on a last journey to the Salvation Army, or maybe the Huka Falls. But the old times were strong between us, the comfort so deep. Strong bonds of respect were hewn…

Mittons! What to do!

Rachaard H. Thimnis

Hallo Rachaard. Now I will help you.

When did things start to change for you and underpants? Because underpants cannot talk to humans, you cannot reply on underpants to tell you what is the matter. Think back. Maybe you bought some new underpants? Did some new underpants caught your eye? It happened to me once, with socks.

I had a favourite pair that Motar got me from Dunedin. They was just the perfect length, and they was a dark colour with a pattern that made me feel edgy and special. They was warm and would not fall down into my shoes. Then one day I got a new pair. They was different. They weren’t smothering like my old socks. They were brighter colours, and felt nice, like purity feels, or fresh sheets. My old socks had begun to get pilling on them. “Too woolen”, I would think as I looked over them in the drawer. “Where is the socks of purity?” And I would put those on. To think my old favourites did not notice my new leanings was a mistake.

But you should never think of deserting these old friends. When you release them, you release a lot of good old memories. Like the time you first wore them. When everything was new, and you was getting to know each otter. The discoveries. The pleasant surprise after that first wash and dry, when you remember you has new underwear ! The times you spent on holiday with your underwear, and the care you took to make sure they was washed before you packed them away. The strength and courage you took from wearing them out, at night time. The pain you would feel when they was dirty and it would be days before you got to wear them again.

To throw these friends away is throwing these memories away. This is why I never throw underwear away. Even when sometimes Motar wants to use them as cleaning cloths, it is better than losing them forever. These underwears is evidence of your life, from beginning to eventual finish.

In my drawer I has all the chapters of life, easy to reference by the old underwear of past times. Whenever I feel like a trip down memory lanes, I open the drawer, and see the ones I wore at the different stages of my life. I think back to embarrassing moments that happened, those times I let myself and my underwear down. But also, I remember the comfort I felt. I remember that I was never alone, as long as I had the underpants on. They was always watching over me, under my pants. (That is why they is called underpants.)

Things do change. You cannot be expected to remain steadfast at all times. Sometimes I get cross or do not want to do the right thing. But I was taught not to give up at the first hurdle of trouble. You need to talk about this to your underwear. It will not talk back but it will hear you. You and your underwear has had many good years. And maybe more good years to come also. But now it is time for a break. You need to put the underwear in the drawer and see what happens over the next few weeks. Wear some new underwears. Get the new underwears out of your system. Some underwears will become more important to you, and you will grow close to them and depend on them, like you did your old underwears. But time makes the wine. Years down the track, you may find yourself waking up one day, and that connection will suddenly be there again. You owe your old underpants this much. If nothing ever happens, at least you can look at them and bring back those fond memories, on a rainy sunday, or in your final years. And then you can be buried in them.

Mittons

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