Dudes, peace out for a second. I need to talk to the ladies.
Girls, I wanna talk for a second about fat draws. Maybe you call them your granny panties or bra & underwear in one or something else that I can't think of right now, but by God you know you have them. We all have them. They are there waiting to come out when boyfriends and fashionable clothing are nowhere in sight.
They are like a girlfriends that always call when you are feeling low. Like a bf that doesn't care if you sit around in his tshirts and eat an entire container of Ben & Jerrys while watching 2/3s of a Say Yes to the Dress marathon ( the whole thing is pushing it even with the best of mans).
Fat draws don't care if you are all bloaty because at 25 your life is still nowhere near a place where you want non-fur babies. They don't judge you because after a weekend that literally included a full day worth of car time you managed to give your grown ass what can best be described as diaper rash (I swear I did not soil myself!!). They just sit there, a size too big and in the side of a house cut, and say, "It's alright, girl. You look like you could use a little extra room. We'll get through this together."
So, on this Monday after thanksgiving, when I'm sure some us are still feeling fat and not so sassy and when theoretically about a quarter of us are on the rag, I thank you, fat draws.
...let your big cotton freak flag fly.