Since I arrived at Hedgebrook, I’ve been getting emails and text messages from male friends wondering if I’ve gotten some tail yet. I think they have a fantasy about the “all-girls’ camp”. I am happy to report, though, that yesterday I was treated to a strip-tease.
It started innocently: we were talking about underwear and comfort. Then, the magic began. One of the writers in residence, Writer X, stood up and said, “I love this pair of underwear! They’re huge, but I love them!” She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled her white grandma undies up over her belly button. Traumatized, I cowered in my love-seat.
“Those are cool,” said Writer Y, “I love mine, though”, and unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down, showing off her own semi-granny undies.
The cook walked in in her utilikilt, which was hot. She sat on the edge of my love-seat and chatted a little, then got up and turned around. Lo and behold, her kilt was pushed up… and her purple undies were showing.
Yes, dear reader: in the space of two minutes, I saw three sexy women’s granny underwear. I lead a very exciting life.