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My old college roommate asked me and our other former roommates to e-mail her our addresses ASAP a couple of weeks back, vaguely promising she had something fun for us all to do.
I was intrigued. I like doing fun things, and I liked the thought of getting something other than junk and bills in my mailbox.
So when the long white envelope bearing her handwriting came this week, I was excited. Then I opened it.
It's a panty exchange!, a form letter read.
A what?!
Suddenly, I had flashbacks to my pre-teen days, when chain letters were all the rage. But so were hideous '80s hairdos (think big, hair-sprayed bangs) and fluorescent-colored clothing, and I've had nightmares about those painful indulgences.
This is not a chain letter. (Yes it is.) This is only for fun.
I scanned the letter, personalized with my name, hoping this was a joke. It was not. My college-educated friend was actually asking me to send this letter to six more friends in order for each of us to get 36 free pairs of panties from other women participating in this exchange.
All we've got to do is send one pair of underwear, with the tag still attached, thankfully, to the woman's name at the top of our list. Then we take her name off, move the next one up and add our own at the bottom.
To make things worse, the letter then instructs me to notify the sender within a week if I'm not going to join in on this "fun," because that wouldn't be fair to others eagerly waiting for their loot to arrive in the mail. Oh, and packaging the undergarments in a manila envelope will do just fine, the letter says.
Okay, so call me a prude (you wouldn't be the first), but I'm feeling pretty conflicted about this. For one, I'm not the kind of girl who uses the word "panties." I've never liked it. It's embarrassingly feminine, too dainty and too weird for that perfunctory garment worn under our clothes and best described as plain old underwear. (This coming from someone who, until recently, had a drawer full of undies bought by Mom in six-packs at Sam's Club.)
Also, you have to wonder if this is some sneaky ploy invented by a Victoria's Secret marketer to get all us unsuspecting shop-aholics to rush out to our nearest lingerie store with visions of silky, flowered undies dancing in our heads.
But the part that bothers me most is the fact that I now know the underwear preference and buttocks size thong, medium of a perfect stranger in Columbia, S.C. And I'm supposed to go buy a pair for her. Eeewww!
At the same time, I feel a little guilty about being the party pooper, no pun intended. Maybe I could find an alternate to take my place. Someone who might benefit from this grown-up chain letter thing.
Someone like the Pasco County woman I wrote about a few years back who had $500 worth of Victoria's Secret bras and undies stolen from her wash in an apartment complex laundry room.
Her family wasn't very happy when I wrote that story (my editors made me do it, I swear). And I've felt slightly guilty ever since about discussing her private garments in print. Had I had this letter handy then, I could have sent it to her to make amends. Who could dislike someone who restocks their underwear drawer free of charge?
Or maybe I could have mailed it to the pervert who stole her stuff to keep him from raiding other people's laundry. Nah, shouldn't go there.
The letter concludes on a pointed, sugar-covered note:
Seldom does anyone drop out because we can all use some fun and crazy panties. Remember, 36 pairs for the price of one! Please don't be responsible for spoiling the fun and stopping the flow of pretty panties!
This is worse than e-mail chain letters, like the ones that promise doom and damnation if you don't forward them to 20 people before your next blink.
These women are serious. They want their free panties, and they are threatening social outcast status for anyone who gets in their way.
Guess some junior high peer pressure antics die hard.