Go Commando and Save the World . . .

Dear you,

Consumer affairs are still in flux.  The random shortages continue.  This week in retail:  Panty panic.

I don’t do underwear since most of the time I’m in leggings or long shorts (is that an oxymoron?).  It is just not necessary to wear one pant-like garment under another pant-like garment unless you’re layering for warmth. That’s redundant. But I do wear hipsters or boy shorts under dresses, skirts, or those XXL t-shirts posing as dresses. This I do to keep my commando mode private, in consideration of the greater good. So recently, I went shopping to renew my supply of the sometimes-necessary under things.  I went to Target, a bad idea.

The store itself looked a bit light in merchandise and the stock of undies in my size and favored types was beyond depleted.  I found one gigantic pair of hipster panties. Big enough for an XXL bottom who likes mint green with flowers. Moving on.  I found one pair of boy shorts.  But these were XXS.  I am little, but not that little.  And they had clearly been dropped on the floor a few times; the dove grey material was covered in shoe-prints.   The only fully stocked drawer contained the dreaded “briefs”, a.k.a. granny panties.

I wandered around looking for options and found a massive display of packaged panties, Hanes, Jockey, that sort of thing.  There were plenty of these.  But not in my size.  Plus most packs had been ripped open and re-taped shut.  Not a good sign.  Nobody should purchase underwear that has been "tested" at the Target in Panama City Beach.  My mission failed.

Where have all the panties gone?  Are they in exile with other things I struggle to find now, things like lint rollers, velvet scrunchies, Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream, and Suave $1 shampoo?

I was going to go on and on about these bougie concerns, but then I remember this from Reuters yesterday:

U.N. climate change report sounds “code red for humanity”.

I am shutting up about underwear.

We sweat, we burn, and (if you are a stork disoriented by wildfires) we die migrating across Greece.  An increase of 1.1C in temperature averages is now.  An increase of 1.5C is supposedly all we can take and we are almost there. I have a feeling our mutual desires for things like panties, scrunchies, ice cream and shampoo got us to this point, things, silly things made in and transported by an oily economy.

I really don’t care about the depleted panty supply at Target.  Like I said, I don’t like underwear anyway.  But this world? I hate to see it go. To prevent that, we are back to the obvious, necessary action:

“Anyone speaking about climate who isn’t urgently calling for an end to the fossil fuel industry deserves to be ignored.”  Peter Kalmus, NASA climate scientist, posted that on Twitter yesterday.

Will I see the end of the fossil fuel industry in my lifetime? What can I do? Step 1:  Stop bitching about depleted panty bins.  Step 2:  Keep pushing politically for a green approach to energy and production. Step 3: Commit to going commando.  Forever. Some "things" are just not worth it.

Go commando and save the world.  

Done.

Joyce