It’s difficult at times to not have contempt for most people.
Let’s take the common interpretation of one of the most famous of momisms ever:
Make sure you’re wearing clean underwear in case you get in an accident.
Like much of the sayings attributed to the little baby jebus lyin’ in the manger, the common interpretation of this saying has been corrupted over the years.
Moms in this case are dismissed as fretting hens, clucking and concerned that someone would be judged by a doctor, nurse or first responder because they’ve got skid marks in their gitch.
This interpretation is so off base because it fails in two primary ways.
First?
If you get in a really big accident, you will literally shit yourself in fear.
Or.
You’re bladder will release and you’ll piss all over yourself
I mean really?
When You’re sitting there attempting to reattached a severed arm, do you think you’ll have any awareness of your bowel?
No.
You’ll be literally shitting your pants attempting to reattach your fucking arm.
So if you ‘get in an accident’, you’ll more than likely have a load in your pants long before Perry the Persistent Paramedic comes to take your pulse using the wrist on your severed arm.
Well done Perry.
Next?
I think that the saying shouldn’t be ‘in case you get in an accident’ to ‘in case you have an accident.’
Dear reader, do you know what first comes to mind when I see a woman with three kids?
No. Not ‘ouch’. But that judgement is not far behind.
No,
I think: No jumping on trampolines for you!
I lived my whole life pre parenthood with no idea what kind of fuckery that child birth wreakes on a woman’s body.
For many after popping out a couple of beautiful bouncing little brats it’s not the sagging boobs or stretch marks that people worry about.
Well.
They do.
That’s what some women talk about in order to avoid the more moist issue: The dribbles, rainfalls and torrents of pee that sometimes they can hold and other times it’s far less possible.
I mean I have huge respect for women who have had kids.
People who haven’t just don’t get how deep and how primal the sacrifice truly is.
Which brings me to back to my version of the the momism of ultimate wisdom:
Make sure you’re wearing clean underpants in case you have an accident.
Clean underpants are the first and sometimes only line of defense.
Just the other day I was meeting someone for a walk in the woods. I didn’t want to piss in front of them so having arrived early I darted off to take a pee.
All things were going as expected. I was a happy man with my dick in my hand, marking out my territory when all of a sudden I had a big sneeeze.
This was, as they say, problematic.
While peeing I was loose, relaxed and feeling fucking great.
I sneezed without taking the precaution of battening down the hatches.
I didn’t get the linkedin logs on lock.
Without my knowledge, the pancake batter pump was primed and ready to go.
And go it did!
I exploded in a sluce of shit slime with the consistency of runny peanut butter.
Lucky for me?
I was wearing underpants.
Off they came, quick as a lunchtime woodland homo hook up and before you could say let’s make this our little secret, I used those Stanfields to wipe myself clean and had them buried in a hole.
After that?
I felt vulnerable.
Not because I felt naked
But because I knew that should I sneeze again? I didn’t have any further defense. I had nothing else to leave behind.
So,
The next time you shit your pants and leave your Stanfield boxer briefs buried in a hole not far from the Dartmouth Crossing entrance to Shubi park?
Call your mom and thank her for her wisdom.
But maybe leave out the whole ‘shit my pants part’ of the story.