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The Scientist

Cheers to the anonymous eagle-eyed commenter who pointed out the logistical flaw in the last entry. How could the bodysuit possibly have pinned my arms over my head if I still had the crotch snaps done up? Good point!

I can only blame that inaccuracy on hurried blogging close to midnight with a bellyful of champagne. I actually tried on two evil bodysuits. The first one got stuck on the hips and then we discovered the snaps. The second one saw me undo the snaps but still getting stuck when I tried to pull it over my head. Obviously the chronology of events became blurred by Veuve Clicquot.

My apologies for any confusion, but one reassuring thing is that the bodysuit is definitely in the Warm Autumn Palette, as is the wedding frock

. . .

I’m having sporadic Freak Outs about getting hitched. I was whining down the phone to The Mothership that I was genetically predisposed to being crap at marriage. For example, The Fathership is on his third wife. The Mothership told me that you don’t have to let your genes dictate your path in life. Which is true. Joe Stalin had kids, and as far as I know they’re not genocidal tyrants. There’s no reports of Apple Paltrow-Martin writing boring but heartfelt songs. YET.

So is life all about Nature or Nurture? Or is it the Nature of the Nurturing?

An example. The Mothership always sends me Sensible Cotton Undies in the post, because she doesn’t want me wasting money on British Knickers when Aussie ones are so much cheaper. Parents seem to like buying smalls for their kids no matter how old they get, it’s a way of keeping their hooks in; a machine-washable reminder that no matter how cool you may think you are now, there is still this lady that used to wipe your arse.

The Mothership once sent a six-pack of Bonds briefs. Two white, two grey marle and two lilac. The lilac ones had the word PURPLE printed all over them in giant white letters. PURPLE! All scrawly and cursive, like the Plat du Jour on a restaurant menu. PURPLE! Just in case you were colourblind and couldn’t see for yourself. PURPLE!

“She hates me,” I brooded. “She is trying to sabotage my love life. She never wants me to find a man. These aren’t even in the Warm Autumn palette. Who will love me with PURPLE undies?”

When my birthday rolled round Mum asked did I need another shipment.

“Sure,” I said, “But can I have them sans-graffiti?”

“What’s wrong with the Purples?”

“Every time I wear them Gareth cackles, ‘PURPLE! Woohoo!’ and it’s bloody embarassing.”

Anyway, my point is: I managed to convince someone to marry me IN SPITE of the off-putting undies, thus overcoming both Nature AND Nurture. Therefore there is a chance I can outwit the divorce gene. Hurrah!

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


23 thoughts on “The Scientist

  1. Oh, goodness. And just the lilac ones had “PURPLE!” on them, not the rest? That is the most baffling part, to me.

    (I would have cackled at your PURPLE! underwear too. Sorry. In all actuality, I am cackling at the very thought of them right now.)

  2. Oh, goodness. And just the lilac ones had “PURPLE!” on them, not the rest? That is the most baffling part, to me.

    (I would have cackled at your PURPLE! underwear too. Sorry. In all actuality, I am cackling at the very thought of them right now.)

  3. Do they still do the Tango ads over there with a bald guy painted orange yelling ORANGES! at a poor unsuspecting Tango-drinker?

    You’re lucky it’s just weird undies, my Mum likes to buy me “nice” clothes, for interviews and the like. Only she tries to make sure they’re hip and trendy as well as “nice” by choosing leopard-print office-wear…her reasoning being my fondness for the toy leopard I recieved when I was 8 years old. Oh, and there was an evening-wrap thingy that was made out of the skin of a cookie-monster, only even furrier and blue-er. My sister got the same hairy beast in tamoto-soup red.

    I think pointing at your loved one’s arse and yelling “PURPLE!” should become a new form of greeting.

  4. *correction*

    TOMATO-soup red.

    I’m going hunting for an Undergarment of Doom for my own wedding after work tonight, though without a sister to rescue me if I get stuck. Wish me luck!

  5. Hi there,

    Time for the Scott theory of marriage:

    My thoughts are that people should go to the altar hungover and looking like crap. If you can go through all the ceremony of a wedding, then turn to your spouse to be who looks like crap and at their worst, and still say “YES”, then things have got to be optimistic.

    Congratulations. Most people come to the UK and put on weight – you’ve found your true love! [You’re Australian and this involves romance – surely Abba comes in to this somewhere??]

    Scott F 🙂

  6. Your blog is great. I have been laughing for about ten minutes 🙂 And if you think the purple knickers are ridiculous…if you ever have kids, you’ll see a million little shirts and rompers with ‘baby’ written on them, presumably, just in case you forget.

  7. Next time I see you, regardless of which undies you may or may not be wearing, I plan on pointing at your bum and announcing “Purple.”

    (My favourite undies have writing on them too. Only mine have a pizza guy doing the bellissimo fingers and saying “Try the fish!”)

  8. Inspired by your tale of the purple undies I shall now declare that many of my panties do indeed have words written all over them. Of course I mostly wear black panties and the lettering will be in black but I can then ask the odd man next to me at the landromat “what are you reading?” as he watches me fold my laundry.

  9. heh. I’ve seen those undies here, in the Bonds factory outlet. I thought they were pretty funny. Mind you I have lots of pairs of undies with writing on them, including a bright purple pair with ‘attention seeker’ written across the back 😀

  10. hmm, scott’s wedding theory makes some sense…

    good job thwarting the two Ns — you give me hope! now to get my hands on some Purple undies…

  11. The worst parent-buying-underpants-for-grown-child story I ever heard came from a work collegue. Her mother bought her a pair of bright pink pants with a cocktail recipe printed on the front. They were also several sizes too small. What was the woman thinking? Why would you want a cocktail recipe on your undies anyway? And why would a mother think her daughter needed such an item?
    Peculiar.

  12. Oh dear, I’m a Mum who gives my daughter purple undies! No writing tho’. Must check with her for an honest appraisal of my generosity. Or should I?

  13. “…it’s a way of keeping their hooks in; a machine-washable reminder that no matter how cool you may think you are now, there is still this lady that used to wipe your arse.”

    Oh my lord. I think this statement is a KEY to the universe and life as we know it. A KEY SHAUNY! My mother and the relentless* ‘Bras n’ Things’ care packages. And she buys T-bone undies too. Last week he got Superman ones. Perhaps it was irony? It’s like a subliminal message to both of us.

    *But still much appreciated. Dude, I don’t want to worry about things like undies.

    Oh yeah, and people find logistical errors in your blog entries???? Puh-leeeease!

  14. Not so much eagle-eyed as confused and wanting an excuse to comment 🙂 Though, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I should just appreciate your gift and stand back and let the talent unfold.

  15. my mother doesn’t do the undies thing… she does the toiletries and cleaning products thing. I have about 10 toothbrushes, 6 tubes of toothpaste, 5 bars of soap, 3 bottles of bleach, 3 lots of laundry detergent, etc etc.

    I think she believes I will forget to clean – both myself and the house.

  16. “Joe Stalin had kids, and as far as I know they’re not genocidal tyrants.”

    Well, he left his one son in a Nazi camp (where he got shot), his other son ended up rich, spoiled, and fired from his generalship, and his daughter fled the country, came to America, and denounced the regime.

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