The Great Transfer - Mothers

My mother, as many mother's do, has a strange compulsion to buy me underwear. I don't know why, maybe she imagines me sitting at home and pining for a pair of cheap, novelty socks, but she just does. Maybe it's genetic.

Anyway, this means that I inevitably get a few pairs of socks and some underwear every Christmas and about 10% of the time that I visit her. I absorb these items into my laundry rotation and go about my life, and my mother sits at home and feels that she's done a good job.

I've been getting to the end of a laundry cycle recently and, because we've done various washes for the house and not for ourselves, I've been a little out on my rotation and so was forced to use a pair of cheap, Calvin Klein imitation underwear.

Imagine my horror, then, when I take them off at the end of the day and find massive holes in them which weren't present when I put them on.

Now, I'd like to say that it was some feat of masculinity, that my loins are simply so large that no mere cloth can contain them, but this is patently not the case as I would go through a lot of underwear this way. No, there was only one explanation for this; my mother had bought me one-shot boxers.

That's right; so low quality and cheap were they that they could only stand the strain of a single day's use. They were, in every sense of the word, briefs.