MY UNDERWEAR ADVENTURE

I have no underwear that fits me right. 

That's not entirely true. I do have one pair of white Hanes briefs that I got back in the '90s that fits, but they're kind of falling apart. The seat has become detached from the waistband in two places, so when I bend over it looks like I'm wearing a thong.

But other than that, I have an underwear crisis.

I've tried to buy underwear, but it never seems to work out for me. With briefs, the medium is too small. The large is too big.  Boxers are not a possibility. And I briefly experimented with boxer briefs from the GAP, but they bunched up in my tush and chafed me.

So today I visited the American Apparel store to check out their offerings.

I must admit that I find everything about American Apparel to be profoundly annoying. Except for that fact that their clothes are made in America. That is a big plus. So, with that in mind I decided to go underwear shopping.

"Where is your underwear," I asked the disinterested sales clerk at the front register.

"Upstairs," she said. So I walked upstairs. And everything was pink. I know that the metrosexual thing is in, but pink undies is a little too much, even for me.

"Is this for guys?" I asked the girl who was hanging up bras.

"Oh no," she replied. "Guys underwear is downstairs."

So I went back downstairs, and there it was. I looked at the packaging and saw the good news. While most guys briefs are small, medium or large, American Apparel's mens undergarments actually comes in sizes. 

I picked out a royal blue pair (the Mets color, of course) in waist size 34-36. I tried to focus more on the 34 than the 36. And then I took it up to the register.

"Um, these are final sale," the same salesclerk who had misdirected me said.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"It means you can't return them," she said.

"What if they don't fit?" I asked. "That always happens to me."

"You still have to keep them," she replied flatly. 

"Okay," I said. Then I handed her my $12 in cash, took the underwear and began to walk out.

"Wait," she yelled. "Don't you want your receipt?"

"Why?" I asked. "I can't return them. So all that receipt is going to do is remind me that I paid $12 for underwear that doesn't fit me."

"I see your point," she said. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm going to need it."