I really hate going to the laundrymat. 

Let me rephrase that… I hate strangers judging you by the contents of your laundry basket.

Never been to a laundrymat or dorm laundry room in your life? Consider yourself lucky and privileged. For the rest of us, the stares of others can be horrifying. Have a bloody shirt and people assume you got your a** kicked in a fight or you killed someone. White stains on shirts and you get the “you gave a blowjob” stare. Sat in something on the bleachers at a basketball game and you get the “loose bladder / bowels” glare. Vomit stains automatically label you as a drunk. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t let anyone see your dirty underoos.

Unfortunately for me, my clean underoos were the topic of conversation among my fellow launderers today. The row of dryers are directly in front of the only seating in the place. As I was removing my clothes from one of the dryers a pair of “festive” (skimpy) underthings fell from my hands and hit the floor. I quickly scooped them up hoping no one had noticed and continued to retrieve my belongings from the dryer.

“What was that? An eye patch?”, an older man joked. “She is too young to be wearing those.”, said an elderly woman to another. “Boo, you need to be wearing them for me.”, said some thirty-something looking dude. One woman even had the audacity to hand me a bible tract as she mumbled something about fast girls and Jesus.

I swear from now on I’m hand washing all of my lingerie.