Ugly Panties.

I was still lying naked in bed, recovering from his last teasing touche before he left for the day, when the bell rang. Hoping it was just the garbage man and he'd pick up the trash that was already outside, I put my head back under the covers. Immediately I was overcome with the scent of me. It's so surprising sometimes, just how dirty he can get me to be between my legs. The doorbell rang again and I resigned to the fact that I would have to go check. I got out of bed and slipped the nightdress over my head. As I ran down the stairs the slick wetness between my thighs made me want to stop and touch myself again. 

I opened the gate to see a delivery man. He looked rather impatient which was understandable given how long I had kept him waiting. I apologized and he quickly thrust the package into my hands and rushed away. I waited for him to go to turn around; I couldn't say for sure that I had wet my dress but I couldn't say for sure that I hadn't. As I climbed back up the stairs I ripped into the package. I couldn't remember which one it was because online shopping is the only video game I am willing to play and most often I just forget what all I have coming way. As a result I have 13 different kinds of coconut milk in the house right now. Each one was a surprise to me. 

As I entered the house I put the package down on the kitchen shelf and examined the contents. Inside the small plastic bag, was a single pair of the ugliest panties I had ever seen. They were big. You know the kind of underwear all women have but would never admit to having. Even when you buy them in your size they look bigger than they should be. Those cotton granny panties that come up to your waist instead of your hips, except these weren't even cotton but a blend. And those were a heinous colour too— beige. Beige does not become me. It just does not. I was sure there was a delivery mistake so I opened up to the invoice. And sure enough, it wasn't my name on the invoice. 

But it wasn't a mistake either. 

It was *his* name. 

I took a picture and sent it to him, asking alongside: *Did you buy me these?* 

I sat on the kitchen counter waiting for his response and looking at the big, beige panties in my hand. They were soft but from every angle they looked like they were cut to be as u flattering as possible. Right up to the waistband that was an inch thicker than it needed to be. I held them open in front of me and each time I saw them, I only had one question, the same one that these exact panties make every woman ask: *Am I really that fat?*

I was lost in my thoughts when my phone buzzed and I saw his response. 

**Yes. I bought those. Fantastic. They're absolutely hideous. Put them on and nothing else.**

Sometimes very little explanation is required to explain a very confusing situation. The moment I saw his text everything was immediately clear to me. I should have known, he's really not the type to *accidentally* buy me ugly panties but in my defense it isn't always obvious that there are people in the world who'd deliberately buy you ugly things and make you wear them. I didn't know what to say to him so I put my phone away. I can't be the only person who thinks hiding from your phone can enable you to wish your embarrassment away. 

I just went to my room with my new panties and undressed. And of course, they were *almost* the perfect size. Almost. But not quite. They were a few centimeters small at the waist and few centimeters large at the hips. I can't imagine he could have done that on purpose but I do think the universe conspires against me. It was very odd to see myself looking like that. Naked apart from ill-fitted underwear, without any make up or even the healthy glow of just having exercised, my hair matted in the wrong direction. I looked like the girl I grew up to escape: vulnerable, ugly and timid. In clothes that were always the wrong size because she was too scared to be measured into the right size. 

So I picked up my phone and wrote him back. 

*I can't believe you'd put me in something so hideous. I feel horrible.* 

He wrote back, almost instantly, 

**Aww, my poor baby. Are you getting your horrible new panties dirty already?** 

As much as I wished to be able to say no, I hadn't been able to breathe right since the time I realized his intentions. He was right and he knew that. I felt horrible, but I wanted that horrible feeling to never go away. And so I told him the truth. 

It pleased him, I think. 

**Good. Wait for me just like that. Don't even wash your face.** 

It was a horridly uncomfortable day. I spent most of it trying to distract myself from how dirty I felt by cleaning other things. It didn't work as well I thought it would. I didn't think. By late afternoon, I realized my only recourse was to take a nap and so I got in bed and closed my eyes long enough to let the wetness lull me into a sound sleep. 

I was woken by him shaking me and he kneeled next to me on the bed. I got up with a start and the world around me was fuzzy. I felt tired. As soon as I remembered what I was wearing I wished I was still asleep. 

"Is this is a dream?" I asked him extending my hand close enough to his shoulder to feel the heat radiate off it but not close enough to even graze it. 

He's odd about being touched in a certain mindset. He touches, I get touched. 

"Only you would have a dream like this," he said laughing. 

I felt comforted for a moment. Just a moment because his friendly laughter soon turned into a mockery of me. 

"You look so unpresentable," he said chiding me, "I have people over, I need you to do the serving." 

I surge of panic hit my chest and I looked at him beseechingly. I don't beseech. I'll beg but not to be shown pity. Though I did then, I wished he would. The gently painful excitement of the day was turning into a nightmare. 

"Can I..get dressed?" I asked hopefully even though I knew the answer. 

He laughed. 

"No silly, you're already dressed," he said pulling me up off the bed, "But I do think you need some make up." 

I stood beside the bed as he went over to the cabinet and came back with some lipstick. 

"Open your mouth," he said kindly. 

He traced my lips crudely and I felt him deliberately go out of the lines. He's really not the unsteady-hands type. After my lips he filled in my cheeks with the same lipstick. It burned my face but I didn't say anything. I didn't say anything as he used a black pencil to fill in over half my eyelid nor as he used the same pencil to write across my chest. 

"Now you're all done," he said a few minutes later, "Come, look at yourself." 

I walked to the mirror as one might walk to the gallows and the sheer sight of me made me stumble and wanted to fall. 

"Look," he said holding my head up by the hair. 

And I did. 

I read the words scribbled across my chest. 

"Dirty. Unwashed. Wet." 

I tried to unsee them but my chest is not my phone. I can't put it away. I tried to unsee my face too. I couldn't do that either. 

"Come let's go meet my friends," he said taking my hand. 

I followed him without a word as we left our bedroom and walked into the kitchen where he handed me tray full of glasses of water. I walked behind him with the tray towards the living room. As the lights increased so did my awareness of every part of my body and as I walked through the curtains into the bright white lights of the room, I felt tears welling in my eyes. 

But the moment I saw them, all four of them, looking at me with stifled laughter and excited horror, the tears redirected to another part of my body. 

I switched my brain off and walked towards the lady to the left. 

I offered her a glass of water. 

She picked it up as she sized me up. 

"Those are some really ugly panties," she said coldly, "I can't wait to see if they fit in your dirty mouth." 

I hated her, but I couldn't wait either.