est. 1975 talks "underwear gunk" - it's gynecological, it's educational, it's just plain funny! #funny #humor #womenshealth #hygiene #underwear #underweargunk #est1975blog @est1975blog

underwear gunk

Not long after I started puberty, I became convinced that something was wrong with me. Something very wrong, and VERY gross.

A mysterious gunk had started to appear in my underwear.

Now, I know what you’re thinking:

est. 1975 talks "underwear gunk" - it's gynecological, it's educational, it's just plain funny! #funny #humor #womenshealth #hygiene #underwear #underweargunk #est1975blog @est1975blog

You bet your sweet asses we are.

It was 1988 when I came into adolescence like a Wild West sheriff busting through a set of dusty saloon doors. In those days, brand new teenagers had a lot of questions, but few answers. There was no Internet back then. No World Wide Web. No comprehensive font of knowledge that everyone could access. The best a kid my age could hope for in those days was the World Book Encyclopedia, and as a source of information it had the following flaws:

  1. You had to trek all the way over to the library to look at it;
  2. You had to use it at the reference desk in front of God and everyone;
  3. It was *always* out of date; and
  4. It absolutely 100% did NOT deal with questions about yucky things happening in underpants.
est. 1975 talks "underwear gunk" - it's gynecological, it's educational, it's just plain funny! #funny #humor #womenshealth #hygiene #underwear #underweargunk #est1975blog @est1975blog

Useless.

Long story short, I found myself in a bit of a pickle when I hit my teens and began finding stuff in my panties that had never been there before. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, because mortified. And I had no place to learn about it, because 1988. So for the next TEN YEARS I just reconciled myself to the fact that I was a disgusting weirdo with a nasty vagina and white slime in her underpants.

I became so immune to the whole phenomenon that when the Internet finally did become a thing, it never occurred to me to Ask Jeeves if he ever got snail trails in his panties. (And in hindsight, I’m relieved I didn’t—I’m not sure I would have been comfortable with the results.) I continued to live on in ignorance, keeping my used panties tucked WAY down at the bottom of the hamper, and *never* letting my ex-husband do the laundry.

est. 1975 talks "underwear gunk" - it's gynecological, it's educational, it's just plain funny! #funny #humor #womenshealth #hygiene #underwear #underweargunk #est1975blog @est1975blog

I’m not going to lie. I also resorted to a lot of this.

Time passed, however, and when I reached my thirties, I noticed that my conversations with lady friends were starting to become more and more intimate. I mean, not “HEY GUYS, DO YOU EVER GET WHITE CRAP IN YOUR UNDERWEAR? I KNOW I DO!” intimate. Well—not at first. But I was hopeful that over time I would be able to broach the subject.

Finally, one day, I did.

“So . . . guys. I was kinda curious about something. I was wondering, if you can you know . . . TELL . . . I mean, just by looking, not by taking a big whiff or anything. . . if a pair of your underwear has already been worn?”

At first, silence.

Then:

“OH MY GOD. YES.”

“TOTALLY!”

“YOU MEAN, I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE?”

“WHAT IS THAT STUFF?”

“IT’S DISGUSTING.”

At which point a glorious and enlightening conversation about underwear gunk began to take shape. We talked colors. We talked consistencies. We talked dry versus wet. Smell versus no smell. “Normal” gunk versus “I should really see a doctor about this” gunk. How pregnancy made it SO MUCH WORSE.

We discussed how certain times of the month made the gunk heavier, and other times lighter. We discussed stain removal techniques. We discussed what it was called (“vaginal discharge”). What it should be called (“snizz jizz”). What we told our husbands about it (“a bird keeps pooping in my underwear.”)

est. 1975 talks "underwear gunk" - it's gynecological, it's educational, it's just plain funny! #funny #humor #womenshealth #hygiene #underwear #underweargunk #est1975blog @est1975blog

Ain’t no party like an underwear gunk party.

The entire conversation was amazing. I don’t think I’d ever felt more relieved in my life. If you’ll excuse the debased metaphor, it was as if a goopy white burden had been lifted from my 100% cotton shoulders.

Long story short, if you’re a lady, you’re gonna gross up your smalls. End of story. It’s totally normal. But it’s also one of those things they don’t tell you about in sex ed class, and most people’s mothers aren’t going to say anything about it either. So to make up for that, I’ve decided to go ahead and take on the responsibility of acting as the world’s first advocate of Underwear Gunk Awareness. Don’t believe me? Here’s my first public service announcement:

est. 1975 talks "underwear gunk" - it's gynecological, it's educational, it's just plain funny! #funny #humor #womenshealth #hygiene #underwear #underweargunk #est1975blog @est1975blog

Ladies everywhere: you’re welcome.

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If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“Sir Thomas Gresham (1519-1579)” – Antonis Mor. Circa 1560. PD – Art. Source: The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. – Modified
World Book Encyclopedia (1990). Photo taken in the library of Central European University. Source: Nataev. Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.
“A Woman Praying” – Willem de Poorter. First half of 17th century. PD – Art. Source: Web Gallery of Art. – Modified
“Women Talk” – Elisabeth Nourse. Circa 1900. PD – Copyright Term Expired. Source: Nieuwe schoenen – Modified

est. 1975 reexamines the importance of housekeeping after returning to work. #SAHM #WAHM #cleaning #housekeeping #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

ditching the deep clean

When I first became a stay-at home mom, I took great pride in keeping my house absolutely pristine. Not just tidy, you understand, but ORGANIZED. Each toy had its proper place; paperwork got filed neatly away; coats and pants were stored according to season; and shirts were lined up by color, sleeve length, and collar type. There wasn’t a single thing where it wasn’t supposed to be.

I also deep-cleaned. Constantly. I scrubbed down the bathrooms each and every day. I swept, mopped, and vacuumed EVERYTHING. I dusted and polished every surface, from the blades of the bedroom ceiling fan to the fake butt indentations on the dining room chairs.

est. 1975 reexamines the importance of housekeeping after returning to work. #SAHM #WAHM #cleaning #housekeeping #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

Judging by the size of these fake butt indentations, my dining room chairs were made for 9-year-old girls and THAT’S IT.

No speck of dirt was safe—not the curly hairs behind the toilets, not the mushy residue in the soap dishes, not the Goldfish crumbs between the couch cushions. My house was immaculate.

Then I decided to go back to work.

I refused to return to a starchy office smelling of burned popcorn and sexual harassment. No thanks! I was going to jump on that new-fangled “work-from-home” bandwagon that everyone was talking about, and no one was going to stop me. Best of both worlds, right? I’d be able to bring home the bacon while still keeping my house spic-and-span. After all, I was my own boss! I could take a break any time I wanted and scrub out the tub ring. I could rinse off the dishes after lunch and load them into the dishwasher. At the very least, I could keep the laundry going at a slow but steady pace.

BAHAHAHAHahahahaha.

These delusions lasted no more than a week. I quickly realized that working moms of ANY variety have to drastically change their housekeeping expectations PDQ—or use some of their precious income to hire a cleaning service. Here are just a few examples of how I personally have devolved from”Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval” to “Final Order of Condemnation”:

Making the beds. I used to change the linens weekly, and when I did, I would launder everything from the mattress pad to the actual duvet. Now I throw myself a parade for just changing the sheets—which maybe happens once a month, or whenever my husband gets in bed, starts scratching like a feral cat, and launches into theatrics about how  “EVERYTHING! ITCHES!” You know. Whichever comes first.

est. 1975 reexamines the importance of housekeeping after returning to work. #SAHM #WAHM #cleaning #housekeeping #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

This is how you make the bed, right? I mean, the blanket goes on top of the pillows like that, right? And the sheets and pillowcases should all be different colors and patterns, right?

Dusting. I once dusted every imaginable surface. Wainscoting, crown moldings, shelves full of knick-knacks, entire bookcases—nothing was spared. But not anymore! Now I only dust what’s visible. If it can’t easily be seen, it can stay hidden under a six-inch layer of dust for all eternity. I could not give less of a care.

Vacuuming. I used to vacuum 3 times a week. Now I vacuum once a month and tell myself I’m not doing it more often because it “scares the cat.”

Cleaning the bathrooms. Okay, bathrooms do need to be cleaned regularly, and they need to be cleaned well, because otherwise that’s just gross. But since I’ve gone back to work, I am cutting myself a *little* slack in the bathroom department. Now, instead of washing my towels every few days or so, I let them age like a fine wine. A fine wine that smells like a moldy hobo.

Trash. Changing the trash, which used to happen daily, has now become a fun game that I like to call “Mexican Standoff.” My husband and I spend days watching the garbage crawl out of the trash can and up the kitchen wall. Whoever gives in and takes out the bag is the L-O-S-E-R.

est. 1975 reexamines the importance of housekeeping after returning to work. #SAHM #WAHM #cleaning #housekeeping #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

WHO WILL CAVE FIRST? NOT I!

Laundry. I used to keep on top of our laundry. Not anymore. Nowadays I don’t do laundry until we’re all wearing bottom-of-the-barrel underwear and irregular “Simpsons” socks from Family Dollar. Even then I just wash whatever shit is laying on the floor next to the machine, which is usually some completely useless combination of a leg warmer, 59 pairs of tightie-whities, and one of my husband’s dress shirts. And what’s that, you say? Let the damp load rot in the machine for a week? Don’t mind if I do.

Mopping. My previous regimen was what I would describe as “mop early and often.” You could run your finger across my kitchen floor and not pick up a speck of dirt. Now? “Eh, no one’s going to notice that dried blob of pumpkin guts from Halloween two years ago. And even if they do, so what? Are the Housekeeping Police on their way? Am I going to have to pay a fine? No? Then who gives an ever-loving shit.”

Surface cleaning. I mentioned that I used to be a stickler for surface cleaning. Now I subscribe to the philosophy that since my tables and counter tops are always covered with crap anyway, what’s the point? No one ever sees them. (With regards to the TV screen, the important thing is that I can still *almost* tell what’s happening underneath all of the snot smears and Nutella fingerprints.)

est. 1975 reexamines the importance of housekeeping after returning to work. #SAHM #WAHM #cleaning #housekeeping #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

The usual state of my counter tops. Also, feel free to straight up ignore the bottles of absinthe in the background. We aren’t that kind of family. *cough*

Organizing. It didn’t take long for my opinion about the organization of closets and drawers to go from “a place for everything and everything in its place” to “ain’t nobody got time for that.” Pajamas are now shoved in with underpants. Shoes are piled in a jumble on the closet floor. Toys lie wherever they were when last used. Why put that shit away when it’s just going to come right back out again?

Cleaning up cat barf. What cat barf? I don’t see any cat barf.

Essentially what I’m saying here is that if you’re a stay-at-home mom, and you’re entertaining thoughts of going back to work while at the same time maintaining an impeccable household, think again. Even if you end up working at home like I do, your threshold for what constitutes good housekeeping is still going to plummet. You just won’t have enough time to juggle everything.

And I’m here to recommend that you just OWN IT. RELISH IT. MAKE IT YOUR OWN.

Yes, your standards of cleanliness may not be what they once were. But you know what? A certain degree of freedom comes along with that. The freedom to slack a bit. The freedom to say “fuck it, the laundry can wait” when you’re feeling tired and meh. The freedom to tell your kids to do the chores, even though you know their idea of cleaning the bathroom is “wiping the toilet seat with a piece of Charmin.”

The next time you find yourself clenching your butthole about the state of your house, relax that ass and release that stress into the universe. Even better, take a turn at contributing to the problem yourself. Clog a toilet and leave it for someone else to deal with. Scrape some jam-covered toast crumbs into the sink, hide the mess with a soggy paper towel, and walk away. Fling your kids’ Legos and Hot Wheels all around the room, then wait for someone else to step on them. It’s an adrenaline rush the likes of which you’ve never experienced.

I have to say, I’m glad I decided to go back to work. Who knew being a slob could be so deliciously liberating? *wipes peanut butter on wall*

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An earlier version of this piece was published on BLUNTmoms.

If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credit:
“Washerwoman”: Gabriël Metsu; PD Art – US; Source: “Catalogue of paintings removed from Poland by the German occupation authorities during the years 1939-1945. 1, Foreign paintings” / comp. Władysław Tomkiewicz ; Ministry of Culture and Art. Warsaw 1950 Editor: Ministry of Culture and Art – Modified

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

dem nails 101

Happy 2016, my loyal so-and-sos! The new year has begun, which means that it is time for me to:

  • Say goodbye to the hot garbage that was 2015, but not before getting right up in its face, screaming “DON’T LET THE DOOR HITCHA,” and launching it out of my life forever via a firm boot to the butthole;
  • Resolve to be be a better, kinder, healthier person for the first seventeen days of January, or until I rage-eat an entire tube of Pillsbury Grands! in one sitting, whichever comes first; and
  • Finally nut up and post the DIY nail tutorial I’ve been promising you guys for many, many moons. A ridiculous amount of moons. An unfathomable amount of moons.

So here we go! I’m gonna show you how to do DEM NAILS!

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Okay. When doing a manicure, you always want to start out with clean, dry nails. Which means that if you’re already wearing nail polish, you’ll need to remove it. Any nail polish remover will do, but I prefer the felt pads that are already pre-soaked and individually wrapped. Otherwise, my nail polish removal experience quickly turns into a nightmarish landscape of stringy, sticky cotton balls and puddles of acetone everywhere.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

I use the Kroger-brand felt nail polish remover pads, because I’m what they like to call a “big spender.”

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

My nails! *gasp* They’re naked! Quick! Somebody get me 5 very small bathrobes!

Now that your nails are Rated R For Graphic Nudity, you’re ready to shape them. If you’re new to DIY manicures, I recommend first reading a short article courtesy of Divine Caroline called “How to Shape Your Nails.” It’s simple and instructive, and best of all, I didn’t have to write it. Click on the image below to take you there.

Image courtesy of Divine Caroline: "How to Shape Your Nails."

Image credit: Divine Caroline – “How to Shape Your Nails.”

I personally shape my nails in the “squoval” fashion because even though I prefer square nails, I’ve found that the sharp edges can gouge out a bitch’s eyeballs. It’s also been my experience that the corners have a tendency to snap off whenever you:

  • eat
  • sleep
  • breathe
  • do anything at all

So I round those fuckers down.

Now. I don’t necessarily want to take a sticky, unsatisfying crap on metal nail files, or even the old-school Emery boards, but I’m going to anyway. Because they suck. They’re either too gritty or not gritty enough, and they last about as long as a sailor on shore leave. The bottom line is that GLASS FILES ARE WHERE IT’S AT. I use an inexpensive one called the Diamond Deb, and a single file can hang in there for YEARS.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

The pointy end comes in very handy for scraping that disgusting gray amalgam of dust, face grease, boogers, nostril hairs, and skin flakes out from underneath your fingernails.

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est. 1975 PRO TIP: NEVER saw back and forth when filing. Sawing at your nails will weaken them, causing icky-poo flaking, peeling, and breakage. Instead, file in one direction on one side of the nail, then in the opposite direction on the other side. Finish by rounding or squaring off the top.

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After you’ve shaped your nails, the next step is to gently push back your cuticles. This keeps them healthy, and also gives your nails the illusion of length. You can use a cuticle removal cream or gel if you like—a variety of brands make them—but I myself don’t bother. I throw caution to the wind and just bareback it with this YCC Clear Plastic Cuticle Pusher.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

PUSH IT.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

PUSH IT REAL GOOD.

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est. 1975 PRO TIP: NEVER CUT your cuticles, and don’t let a nail tech or manicurist do it either. It’s a fabulous way to contract a Gross ‘N Nasty bacterial or fungal infection. Check out this short article courtesy of Cosmopolitan called “Why You Should Never, Ever Cut Your Cuticles” and walk away schooled.

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Now it’s time to paint!

If you have oily nails like I do, I recommend wiping your nails down with rubbing alcohol before you start. This will remove dirt and oil, but it will also help polish adhere to the nail, helping you avoid the super fun phenomenon I like to call “The Manicure That Chips Off in Gigantic Pieces 20 Minutes After It Dries.”

You can also use a nail primer like Orly Primetime Primer Basecoat to achieve the same result.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

Useful, but it’s basically just rubbing alcohol with an applicator. If you’re in a pinch, save yourself the dollars.

Now apply a rubberized basecoat like Orly Nail Bonder Treatment to your nails. It has a “gripping” effect and does a kick-ass job of keeping nail polish in place, even on oily nails like mine.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

Like, comment, and subscribe if you think I’m a humongous product whore who deserves a free case of Orly Nail Bonder Treatment in exchange for this post.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

A wet coat of Orly Nail Bonder Treatment. Or maybe I just wiped my nails across my sweaty forehead. *I’ll* never tell.

Got your color ready? Because you’re going to need to apply your first coat while YOUR BASECOAT IS STILL WET so that the rubber can bond to the lacquer. I chose China Glaze’s “Out Like a Light” for this tutorial because China Glaze makes excellent, inexpensive cremes that are very easy to apply.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

Sorry that this picture sucks. Unlike *actual* nail bloggers, I do not have all of the awesome lighting and camera equipment it takes to take sweet close-up photos of dem nerls.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

If you can’t find this exact shade, a nice almost-dupe for this nail polish is China Glaze’s “Concrete Catwalk.” Yes, I have both. Yes, I have a problem. Yes, shut up.

Now, if you’re not used to painting your own nails, applying the lacquer quickly and neatly is going to take you some practice, particularly when using your non-dominant hand (that lazy son-of-a-bitch.) However, in the meantime, here are a few simple tips that can help:

  • GO TO THE BATHROOM BEFORE YOU START. Nothing fucks up a manicure more easily than an urgent pee, or a deuce that can’t wait.
  • Never shake your polish. This will cause air bubbles to form. Instead, roll the bottle gently on a soft, flat surface.
  • Don’t polish your nails in the same room as a moving fan. This will also cause air bubbles.
  • If you accidentally get polish on your skin, don’t lose your shit. Just let the paint dry and it will wash right off with soap and water.
  • LET EVERY LAYER OF NAIL POLISH DRY COMPLETELY BEFORE MOVING ON TO THE NEXT. And by dry, I mean DRY. Not tacky. Not squishy. Not “eh, it’s basically dry.” DRY. 
  • You should only need to use 2-3 layers of most lacquers to get full coverage.
  • If you struggle with streaks, air bubbles, or flooded cuticles, chances are pretty good that you’re just not painting your nails the correct way. This incredibly helpful article (see image below) from Lacquerized.com taught me everything I know.
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Image credit: Lacquerized – “How To: How I Paint My Nails.”

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est. 1975 PRO TIP: If you have gorgeous long talons and struggle with tip wear, try wrapping your tips. It’s a technique that involves putting a little bit of lacquer on the free edge of your nail to prevent wear and tear. For step-by-step instructions, check out this article by The Polished Perfectionist called “How to Wrap Your Tips.”

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After you have applied your color, you’re going to need to finish with a quick-drying top coat. One of my favorites is Seche Vite Dry Fast Nail Top Coat. It smells like a toxic chemical spill and it doesn’t play well with non-drugstore polishes, but its high gloss, durability, and time-to-dry are second to none. You must apply it while your final layer of color is STILL WET.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

This is a miracle product. I’m not even kidding. I think Jesus Himself was involved in the creation of this top coat.

After application, in about 30 to 60 seconds your manicure will be drier than my vaju-vaju after watching my husband get out of the shower and air dry his junk using the “helicopter” method. (If you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, consider yourself hashtag blessed.)

So this is what DEM NAILS can look like with a little practice and some pretty reasonably-priced manicure products:

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

WHERE MY OTHER HAND MODELS AT?!

Oh! One more thing. Make sure to keep your nails and cuticles moisturized after a manicure, because the chemicals can dry out your skin. I like the Mary Kay Satin Hands lotion, and indie polish manufacturer Emerald & Ash has an entire line of cool-smelling cuticle oils.

est. 1975 shows the loyal so-and-sos how to do a relatively easy and inexpensive manicure. #nails #nerls #manicure #est1975 #est1975blog #funny #humor

I’m currently using the E&A cuticle oil “Gourmet Dark Chocolate.” On a totally unrelated note, I’m also currently trying not to nibble my fingers off.

And there you have it! Beautiful nails you can do at home. If you have any questions about techniques, materials, or why my cat insists on standing on my boob while I’m trying to write a blog post, put ’em in the comments!

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If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog

sexy lingerie? BYE, FELICIA!

When I first met my husband, I was 26 and he was 25. I rocked a body back then, and so did he. That time was a time of mutual physical admiration, lots and lots of getting-to-know-you sex, and (at least in my case) an almost unholy amount of tiny underthings.

Tiny underthings. Those over-sheer wisps of mesh and lace that look sexy as hell but offer basically nothing in the way of foundation or support. Tiny underthings can range from demi-bras to balconettes, gartered stockings to lace-top thigh highs, teeny bikini-cut panties to thong underwear that constitutes little more than a string and a prayer.

During that first year with my husband, I went on regular shopping sprees for new dainties. I was known to descend on the lingerie shops shrieking “TAKE MY MONEY” until my bank account was drained and a thousand tiny pink bags of useless lace fragments were mine.

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog

‘Twas my home away from home.

However, much to my husband’s disappointment, my flirtation with tiny underthings did not last long. Mainly because THAT SHIT IS UNCOMFORTABLE. AND EXPENSIVE. AND HIGH-MAINTENANCE. Don’t get me wrong, I cast no aspersions upon women who manage to make sexy lingerie work for them. But I myself just . . . couldn’t. Believe me, I tried.

And I failed.

You see, after about a year of tiny underthings, several realities about them became abundantly clear:

  • Tiny underthings did not play nice with my vajay. They were itchy, clammy, and yeast infection-y. My vaginal chemistry was *never* happy. I longed for a cotton gusset.
  • Tiny underthings required too much special washing and handling. My mother told me: “Buy a lingerie bag, some Woolite, and throw it all in the washing machine on delicate.” Lingerie bag? Woolite? A washing machine cycle other than “whatever it’s already on”? Yeah, none of that ever happened. I threw my expensive lingerie in the wash with towels and jeans, and watched it disintegrate instantly.
  • Tiny underthings simply don’t cut it when you’re a relatively busty woman with considerable back door biscuits. To put it bluntly, I needed lingerie with a lot more muscle and know-how. I required underwire. I required full coverage. I required reinforced straps and a serious amount of hooks. I required bras so big that my husband and I could stand side by side and wear each cup as a hat (and later did.)

So I gave up on tiny underthings, as well as the extra helping of self-confidence that comes with them. But you know what? I have no regrets. Because, you see, I no longer have quadra-boob from trying to stuff my flabby bosom into a too-small balconette bra that the Victoria’s Secret saleswomen ASSURED me would fit like a glove. I no longer have crack chafe from a gritty piece of butt floss jammed in my sweaty swamp-ass all day. And best of all? Yeast infections are at an all-time low.

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog

My “now” undergarments: 1) A humongous yet functional bra that is beyond mangled from having been washed repeatedly with things like jeans, sneakers, and possibly chunks of rebar; and 2) A humongous pair of granny panties that are faded as all hell but would undoubtedly work great in place of a mainsail or field tarp.

And just so you know? While I may have moved on to full-coverage old lady bras and 100% cotton underdudes years ago, I’ve only just recently taken the next step. What many might consider the LAST step. You see, I had a hysterectomy, and now there’s a big old abdominal scar that’s right where the elastic part of my old cotton panties nestle into the roll. I can’t have that anymore. I’m all numb down there, and the skin around my hysterectomy scar feels weird, and I just don’t like anything touching it. (Hyster sisters, I know you feel me.)

So what’s the solution? I hear you asking.

The solution, my dears, is granny panties. And if you don’t have any? I HIGHLY SUGGEST PICKING SOME UP. They are comfortable. They are supportive. They are beloved of hipsters everywhere. Oh, you’re worried they’re unsexy? Well to that I say: husbands and boyfriends and partners of all gender identities be damned. It’s time for them to grow up, move on from their fixation with tiny underthings, and say: “Sexy lingerie? BYE, FELICIA!”

est. 1975 USED to love herself some sexy lingerie. Not anymore, my friends. Not. Anymore. #funny #humor #est1975 #est1975blog #lingerie #panties #grannypanties @est1975blog

My feelings on the subject of lingerie THESE days.

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An earlier version of this piece was published in 2014 on BLUNTmoms.

If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“Bloomers – Rear Image”: CC BY 2.0; File:Bloomers Rear Image.png; Uploaded by З2Х; Created: 17 July 2010
“Panties styles”: CC BY-SA 3.0; File:Panties styles – en.svg; Uploaded by Moyogo; Created: 5 June 2010 — Modified
“Victoria’s Secret Store”: CC BY-SA 3.0; File:Victoria’s Secret Store 9, 722 Lexington Ave, New York, NY 10022, USA – Dec 2012.JPG; Uploaded by WestportWiki; Created: 3 December 2012

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

my day off

A couple of weeks ago, my husband approached me and spoke the words I’ve been longing to hear since our son was born.

No, not: “I’m finally going to stop bugging you about butt stuff.”

No, not: “I’m so over sticking my hands down my pants while watching television.”

No, not: “I promise to never again leave my dirty clothes on the kitchen floor after coming home from work and undressing in front of the stove like a crazy person.”

(Though, let’s be honest. I never had the slightest expectation that my husband would say any of those things. Because I am a realistic woman.)

This is what he did say, however:

“So . . . I’m thinking about taking our son on a day trip.” 

Here was my external reaction:

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

“Ho hum. Whatevs. Like I care. I’ve already forgotten what you just said. I’m out, y’all. PEACE.”

My internal reaction, however, was more like:

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

“I’VE NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY ABOUT ANYTHING IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. NOT EVEN BREATHING. NOT EVEN JESUS. NOT EVEN CADBURY SCREME EGGS.”

“Oh, really?” I replied, casually. “Where you gonna take him?”

“Down to Cincinnati to watch Nadal play some tennis.”

“Huh,” I said, disinterestedly. Because you gots to play it cool, am I right? Even when you’re already making a “My Day Off” mix tape in your head. (First song? “Celebration” by Kool & the Gang.)

“Wanna come along?” asked my husband.

Um . . .

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

But it was a fine line I needed to walk. I had to seem like I wanted to go, but not enough to make my husband think I really should go.

“Nah,” I smiled. “You two go on and have a special father-son day.”

“You sure?” asked my husband, sounding concerned. “You won’t be too lonely?”

Now. I’m all about Real Talk here on est. 1975, so I’ll freely admit that what was running through my head was this:

“FUCK NO, I WILL NOT BE LONELY. ARE YOU KIDDING? I’M ACTUALLY GOING TO HAVE AN ENTIRE TWELVE HOURS ALL TO MYSELF! THIS IS BETTER THAN WINNING THE LOTTERY. THIS IS BETTER THAN MULTIPLE ORGASMS. THIS IS BETTER THAN PEEING AFTER YOU REALLY HAVE TO GO FOR LIKE FIVE HOURS.”

But what I actually said was this: “Of course I won’t be lonely! You guys will have an awesome time.”

Wow. Such cool. Very cucumber.

So my husband and son clambered into the car, all excited to go watch athletes of some nature play some kind of sport I didn’t care about, and I waved at them through the window and blew them a thousand kisses. Kisses that were fake as hell. Because as soon as my husband’s car was out of sight, My Day Off began.

I even had an agenda.

MY DAY OFF: AGENDA

10:30 AM: Immediately turn off the television. Relish the fact that for twelve hours I will not once have to watch SportsCenter or hear the theme song to Teen Titans Go!

11:00 AM: Go directly to KFC for lunch. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Do not wear a bra or put on deodorant.

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

I want fried chicken in my mouth and I want it now.

12:00 PM: *burp*

12:30 PM: Say to myself: “While they’re gone, I might as well get some work done.” Then laugh and laugh because YEAH, RIGHT. Spend the next two hours watching YouTube videos.

2:30 PM: Start to feel legitimately bad about not doing anything productive. Do three sit-ups and feed the cat.

3:00 PM: ZZZzzzzz.

5:00 PM: Wake up from my nap with a mouth as dry and gritty as the floor of an ancient Egyptian burial chamber. Chug five glasses of water while watching more YouTube.

6:30 PM: *beep boop beep* “Hello, is this Pizza Hut?”

8:00 PM: “Shit. They’re going to be back in less than three hours. I haven’t done any work. I haven’t done any cleaning. I haven’t even showered. I better get something done pronto. But first, I’ll just check Facebook.”

8:30 PM: Still on Facebook.

9:00 PM: Still on Facebook.

9:30 PM: Still on Facebook.

10:00 PM: Realize that My Day Off is almost over and I have literally nothing to show for it. Decide to at least put on some clean pajamas, then change my mind, because that would just make for extra laundry.

10:30 PM: Hear the garage door open. Quickly dive into bed, turn off the lamp, and commence with fake snoring, because twelve hours clearly wasn’t enough time alone and I still want more. Does that make me a bad wife and mother? Maybe. Do I care?

est. 1975 has a day completely to herself! What does she do with it? You'll never guess... because it's boring as hell. #funny #humor #est1975blog #est1975 @est1975blog

Not even a little.

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If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“KFC Store” – CC BY 2.0; File:KFC signs – Old and New.jpg; Uploaded by Jayblue42; Created: 11 June 2006 — Modified
Michelle Visage .gif – Source unknown, footage from Rupaul’s Drag Race, aired on LogoTV

"my knight in shining Zofran" - in which est. 1975 battles with onions, barf, and cigarette butts. #est1975blog @est1975blog #morningsickness #zofran #funny #humor #pregnancy

my knight in shining Zofran

My one and only pregnancy started out like many others—with crippling exhaustion, inexplicable cravings for meatballs, the purchase of about ten pregnancy tests (“Is that a line? I can’t tell. Should we call the help number? Get a magnifying glass”), and copious amounts of drool on my pillowcase. Other than those fairly standard symptoms, however, I honestly felt like being pregnant wasn’t too different than being not pregnant.

For the first six weeks.

Around my sixth week, I made the healthful decision to eat a sub from Quizno’s.

First_Quizno's_Subs_restaurant

Just in case you’re an off-the-grid mountain man that hasn’t driven by 700 billion of these in your lifetime, here is a Quizno’s Subs. Behold.

I ordered the sub with beaucoup onions, because I like it when my mouth smells like a grody armpit. I began eating the sub with gusto, but about three chews in, I realized that someone had played a terrible joke on me and poured the contents of an ashtray all over the inside of my sandwich.

That’s right. I WAS EATING CIGARETTE BUTTS.

I tore off the top bun in horror, only to find what you might already suspect: there were no cigarette butts anywhere on the sandwich.

Huh.

I replaced the top bun and began to eat again, only to have my mouth fill once more with the taste of tobacco and ash. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. Was there something wrong with the meat? Had the mayonnaise gone off? Had the Quizno’s guy smoked 3 packs of unfiltered Winstons while making my sandwich? I sure as hell wasn’t going to finish off the rest of it in order to find out. I threw the Rotten Butt-Tastin’ Sub in the garbage and went my “merry” way.

I felt a little queasy that day, but I chalked it up to the fact that my sandwich had tasted like a gas station toilet bowl. It never crossed my mind that this experience might be an indication of what the pregnancy books call a Food Aversion™, and that my beloved onions would taste like cigarette butts for the next eight months. That particular day, all I knew was that Quizno’s was beyond disgusting (it isn’t) and I would never eat there again (also untrue.)

Mmmm. Onions.

Besides, I felt much better the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after . . .

Wait a minute.

What’s that smell?

Is my husband cooking? Why is he cooking? WHAT is he cooking?

It smells like fried butthole.

That . . . erp. That is . . . nauseating. I must get to the bottom of this.

“HUSBAND! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU COOKING?! IT SMELLS LIKE HOT PEPPERONI AND FRIED BUTTHOLE. NO ONE IS GOING TO WANT TO EAT THA—“

*erp*

“NO ONE IS GOING TO WA—“

*blerp*

“NO ONE IS G—”

Oh shit.

*BLERGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

With that, the morning sickness had begun.

And it didn’t end. At least, not when it was supposed to. Believe me, I tried waiting it out. But it just kept coming. My daily existence consisted solely of sleeping, barfing, and peeing my pants while barfing. My doctor suggested an anti-emetic, but because I am old enough to have learned in high school about Thalidomide and its ensuing wave of flipper babies, I decided to tough my way through it until I was about 16 weeks along.

At that point, I was losing weight and severely dehydrated, so my OB/GYN forced the issue and wrote me a prescription for the anti-emetic called Zofran. I was hesitant (flipper babies), but after I started taking the blessed Zofran, I could actually keep some food down, and went from throwing up multiple times a day to multiple times a week.

The little yellow pills that saved me from becoming a malnourished skeleton during my pregnancy. All Hail the Mighty Zofran!

The little yellow pills that saved me from becoming a malnourished skeleton during my pregnancy. All Hail the Mighty Zofran!

But the morning sickness NEVER fully went away. Even on the delivery table, with copious amounts of Zofran running through my IV drip, I still managed to puke twice. (The upside, however, was that I didn’t poop. With nothing in my stomach, my bum stayed as clean as two Georgia peaches. Relatively speaking.)

Not until my son was pulled from my vagina red-faced and covered with vernix, did my morning sickness finally leave me. And I know this is hard to believe, but I swear I actually *felt* it happen. That moment was possibly the best experience of my entire life—well, second to the whole “bringing a human life into the world” thing—and I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was resplendent. After nine months of Blerg Stomach I finally felt normal again.

So I ate EVERYTHING.

Hospital food never tasted so good. I inhaled every shit they put in front of my ravenous face. The gross grilled chicken. The gross mashed potatoes. The gross limp vegetables. The gross pudding. I didn’t even ask for my family to bring in food from the outside world, I just ate whatever the hospital served me. Didn’t care. Didn’t mind. I just ate and ate and ate. I was delighted. I was overjoyed.

The grossest picture of hospital food I could find. And I would have still GLADLY slurped this shit down.

This is by far the grossest picture of hospital food I could find. And yet? I would have GLADLY slurped this shit down after giving birth. And I do mean slurp, because I’m pretty sure that none of this is actually solid food.

I was unwittingly establishing a pattern that would last for years.

I still eat to make myself feel better. I revel in it. Don’t get me wrong—I’d had my binge-y moments before my son was born. But after the fact? Eating became my regular, day-to-day comfort. And as with the hospital food, what I was eating didn’t even need to be particularly tasty. It just made me happy to be chewing and swallowing, swallowing and chewing, until my belly was full.

Now, that pattern is taking its toll. I am overweight, out of shape, and other health problems are also cropping up as a result. As much as I hate to leave behind what made me so happy for so many years, my self-medicating in this way needs to stop. I can’t do it all at once. I can’t do it overnight. But I need to do it.

Right after this cookie.

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An earlier version of this piece was published in 2014 on BLUNTmoms.

If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“Portrait of a Woman in Red” — Author: Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger (1561–1636); Title: Portrait of a Woman in Red; Date 1620; Source/Photographer Tate.org.uk — Modified
“Hospital Food” — Date 6 April 2005, 18:06; Hospital food; Author Siobhan from Upstate New York; Licensing: Creative Commons; Attribution share alike; This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.
“Zofran” —  Drug Name: Zofran 8 MG Oral Tablet; Drug Label Author: GlaxoSmithKline LLC; Date 2010/2011; Source NLM, http://pillbox.nlm.nih.gov/assets/large/000817lg.jpg; Author NLM; Public domain: This image is a work of the National Institutes of Health, part of the United States Department of Health and Human Services. As a work of the U.S. federal government, the image is in the public domain.
“Cigarette butts” — “Filled with butts”; Author: Stefan-Xp – Own work; A “well” filled Ashtray; Permission details: GNU-FDL
“Quizno’s” — Description English: The first Quizno’s Subs restaurant, located in Capitol Hill, Denver, Colorado; Date 4-17-09; Source Own work; Author Xnatedawgx

sheet stains

There has been a smear of liquid foundation on my bed sheet for a week.

It looks like poop. And it’s right at about butt level, too. If someone were to accidentally wander into my bedroom, they would probably jump to the conclusion that I’d sharted during sex.

I know *I* would jump to that conclusion.

est. 1975 has a stain in her bed and she is not doing shit about it. #funny #humor #stain #bed #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

My husband and I. About every single stain and/or smell that appears in our bed.

Fortunately, only my husband, my son, and I ever go into my bedroom. And I know this to be the case. So when I was doing my makeup in bed (why) and accidentally pumped my little bottle of foundation too hard and squirted it all over the sheets (dumb), I made the controversial decision to:

  1. Give it a half-assed blot with some toilet paper.
  2. Abandon the pretense.
  3. Toss the duvet over it and act like nothing ever happened.

I didn’t decide these things because I’m lazy (I am). I didn’t decide them because I’m gross (also yes). I decided them because I hate changing sheets with Every. Fiber. Of. My. Being.

est. 1975 has a stain in her bed and she is not doing shit about it. #funny #humor #stain #bed #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

You see an unmade bed. I see the stuff of nightmares.

Now, now. Calm your tits. Don’t go running to the phone to inform Social Services that I’m an unfit wife and/or mother. I may be gross but I’m not that gross. I change the bed sheets just as regularly as anyone else. It’s just that in this particular instance I had JUST changed them. Like the DAY before.

And I really, really, really didn’t want to change them again.

I felt a *teensy* bit guilty about not doing it. Just a teensy. So I had a mini-conversation with myself in order to justify my reasoning:

Me: “You should probably change those sheets.”

Myself: “Don’t be ridiculous. Look at that. It’s just an itty bitty blemish on an otherwise pristine set of sheets.”

Me: “But it looks like poop.”

Myself: “So?”

Me: “So, poop is gross.”

Myself: “It might look like poop, but it isn’t poop. There’s no smell. There’s no germs. There’s no hygiene issue here.”

Me: “But…”

Myself: “Oh, so you really want to rip off all the sheets and fucking do all that work right now?”

Me: “No.”

Myself: “Well, then.”

Me: “ . . . ”

Myself: “Do we have any Cheetos? I’m hungry for Cheetos.”

And thus the sheets remain unchanged.

Oh, don’t judge. When my son was just a little guy with what I would characterize as an “unpredictable esophagus,” I was changing sheets constantly. That kid could barf, and he did it a lot. Every time he ate something funny. Every time he got stressed. Every time he caught a cold. Every time he took a ride in the car. Every time anything happened at all. He was a master of the violent and overly productive retch, and a disproportionate amount of this retching happened at night. In bed. On clean sheets.

est. 1975 has a stain in her bed and she is not doing shit about it. #funny #humor #stain #bed #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

If my son was the Christ child.

Still. A mom has to do what a mom has to do. My husband and I swiftly came to an arrangement: he cleaned up the kid, and I cleaned up the sheets. Each of us did these jobs reluctantly, but we did them nonetheless, looking stoically forward to the day that our son would grow out of his incessant horking. Which he eventually did.

Then, what seemed like a blink of an eye later, the nightly nosebleeds started.

It turned out that my son had a bunch of blood vessels in his nose that were too close to the surface, and he ended up needing nasal cautery surgery to fix the problem. But it took us about a year to a) definitively diagnose the problem, b) try out non-surgical options, and then c) convince our son that he was not going go to into surgery and wake up dead.

A whole year. Of bloody pillowcases and sheets.

*shakes head*

*sighs*

Fortunately, my son is now six and he no longer pukes at the drop of a hat. The nosebleed problem is solved. There are no more overnight accidents (which I didn’t even bother to mention, because we all know what those entail.) And last but not least: our two elderly cats, who were also a dab hand at expressing biohazard all over our bed sheets, have at long last crossed the Rainbow Bridge. So I’m finally back on a “normal” routine of changing the linens.

So, a smear of foundation? It didn’t come from a butt. It didn’t come from a nose. It didn’t come from an unpredictable esophagus. It is NOT EVEN A THING. It can wait till the weekend.

IT. CAN. WAIT. Trust.

This, on the other hand:

est. 1975 has a stain in her bed and she is not doing shit about it. #funny #humor #stain #bed #est1975 #est1975blog @est1975blog

Aw hell no.

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An earlier version of this piece was published in 2014 on BLUNTmoms.

If you haven’t already done so, consider following est. 1975 on Facebook, Twitter, and/or Pinterest! I add fresh, hilarious material every single day.

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Photo credits:
“Woman Washing Kettle”: Artist Adriaan de Lelie (1755–1820); Title “Woman scrubbing a kettle”; Date 1796; Source/Photographer; http://hdl.handle.net/11259/collection.37848 — Modified
“Virgin and Child: Title “The Virgin and Child,” a painting attributed to the Master of Flemalle; Date 6 March 2013; Source ArtDaily.com — Modified
“Unmade Bed”: Date 18 April 2005, 01:04:01; Source Flickr; Author Liz Lawley — Modified
“Couple in Bed”: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864–1901); Title “In the Bed”; Date 1893; Source/Photographer The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202. Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH. — Modified