I was once the lucky recipient of a Hand-Me-Down Thong.

*IT* was leopard-print. And had fuzzy fringe. *AND*. Not just leopard-print, not just fuzzy... both.



... a catastrophe of massive proportions that only the fashion industry could call its own.



Now, I won't tell you who gave it to me because I'm still praying that it was an (*twitch twitch*) accident on their part. Honestly, what person in their right mind would intentionally put the above-mentioned object in a sack full of deliciously chic (albeit far too small) h-m-d skirts and sweaters? Give such an atrocity freely to a person who considers thongs to be naught but strings sewed into a loop and called "appropriate underwear" by a designer with a satanic sense of humor? Freely pass on something they found while raiding Tarzan's closet?!
... only someone in my family.

I haven't blushed this much since I went underwear shopping with my Grandmother and, while contemplating which pair of nice sensible bloomers would work for her, Enter Saleswoman:
"If you look over here - (points to rack of colorful pastels, snappy prints, and outrageous patterns) - you might find something a little more interesting."
GM and I: "We're plain drawers people, thanks."
SW: "But you never know who's going to see it!!"

....
Happy 85th Birthday, Babci. Enjoy that light baby blue we bought you.