I buy all my underwear in groups of maybe 10 to 15.

This works out alright during the first part of the life cycle of a pair of panties because, well, they're new. The elastic is stretchy, the microfiber feels smooth and unpilled, the tag still has all the information on it. Your pets don't take perverse pleasure in carting them around in their mouths. And no matter who you are or what size you wear, everyone feels hot in new underwear.

Even the second stage of life is okay, because here you develop your favorite pairs to go with certain clothes. Sort of a Superman costume under your boring work outfit. This is also where the wheat gets separated from the chaff. The cute polka dot pair that you thought might bring out the playful side of your significant other have been rejected with a smirk. You realize the pair with the alligator shouting "HAPPY TIME!" while reclining under a rainbow that you bought only for the novelty is actually the most flattering on your behind. Thank God those thongs you bought were all black! And what about the ones your sister held up to your head and said "Well, these say they're your size, but I'll be damned if you're going to be able to fit your whole ass in them." Ha! Not only do they fit, but they're actually too big.

The longest stretch in the life cycle of the panty herd is after the breaking in phase, when life returns to its non-new-panty plain-old day to day grind. You have some good days where all your clothes come together to make you look and feel like a rock star. Other days you choose poorly and end up feeling like your skirt and your panties have transformed into velcro. Your significant other has his/her favorite pairs, but no longer feels it necessary to take them off with his/her teeth.

And then, inevitably, comes the day when you pull on your old reliables, and the elastic no longer snaps reassuringly across your hip tattoos. They sag, they itch, the tag still haunts the small of your back even though you ripped it out months ago.

The weeding of the herd is always a sad day for me. I gather them together, freshly laundered for their final journey, and cut them into tiny pieces. This strategy came about after a friend discovered that her discarded underpants were being dug for by assailants unknown(possibly the dog, but who wants to take chances?) and spirited away or left in tatters on the lawn.

And lo! It was decided to wash and then destroy our loyal servants before disposing of them, so as not to be greeted with any ghastly, creepy, or slobbery sight upon leaving for work in the morning.

And thus ends the lesson for today.