Red Bikini Underwear

There’s a laundry detergent commercial airing all over the place in which a mom and Tide Podsdad are folding a mountain of laundry because their adult children and in-laws have moved in with them.

Dad holds up a rather large pair of underpants with a look of horror on his face.

Mom snatches the giant granny-panties away just as grandpa shuffles into the scene looking for his pants.

Ah, family togetherness, right?

I remember when my dad, Gordy, moved in with my family of five.

We had some adjustments to make. He was a lot of fun, but once in awhile I got thrown for a loop.

Take the morning I pulled a pair of black bikini underpants out of my drawer and thought, these don’t look right.

I held them up in the lamplight and saw a SAUSAGE POUCH.

“These aren’t mine!” I said to my husband as I flicked them across the room at him, knowing he had been the one to fold our laundry and put it away. “There’s a banana hammock!”

“I didn’t know,” Paul said. “I thought they looked weird, but they’re black–they’re small–I figured they were yours.”

“Yeah, well, they must be Gordy’s,” I said.

Yup. And further proof the acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.



My dad was a hipster before hipster was cool.

He caused a stir at work in the mid-sixties for rocking sideburns and colored dress shirts. But a few years later, most the men in the company had followed suit.

From Gordy, I learned to be true to myself.

And fashion is a great place to do exactly that.

Whether it is seen or unseen.





That being said, however, I’m never sure why women feel compelled to wear head-to-toe Victoria’s Secret sweats with the word: PINK written in large block letters across each piece.

You can wear Victoria’s Secret on every inch of your body if you like–but it doesn’t make you look like a VS model. (That’s either God-given or done in a surgical suite–or both.)


Same goes for head-to-toe anything. Like those ladies who dress like giant pumpkins at Halloween. Or men who found a look in 1983 and they’re sticking with it.

Anyway, when I was teaching high school in an urban setting, a young lady and young man got into a war of words over all the designer-labels they were wearing that particular day.

To diffuse the argument, I got between them and said, “Hey, I’m wearing a dress from Gabriel Brothers that cost me $6.00 and my cardigan is Walmart, $14.99. My shoes are hand-me-downs from my sister.”

They erupted into laughter. What could they say?

The truth is, though, I love fashion–I really do. But I’m a free-spirit with a bargain-images (2)hunter’s eye–and I don’t want somebody else’s name all over my body.

And that goes for my underwear, too.

Throughout my professional life, I always chose to wear outrageous underwear on days when I had difficult meetings, observations, or the like.

It was my subversive way of saying, “Underneath this professional exterior is a woman who slays in leopard-print bikini underpants.”

It’s the little things in life that keeps you sane.

images (3)

At any rate, fast forward to many years later when my dad passed away.

My sister and I had to pick out the clothes he would wear in the casket, so we chose his favorite jeans, a button-down, a sweater, a Grateful Dead cap, and, RED BIKINI UNDERPANTS.

Not a traditional choice, I know, but somehow, I know he approved.

Thanks for stopping by.

Remember, life is short. Walk on the wild side.


Susan J. Anderson

Foxy Writer Chick



6 thoughts on “Red Bikini Underwear

    1. Oh yes–love, laughter and hilarity always ensued with Gordy. I think that’s where my boys get their mischievous streak–even now. Growing older is mandatory, but growing up not so much. And thank God for that! 🙂


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