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Aristotle | Dec 27 2002

I have a pair of long underwear. Technically it’s not long underwear but some kind of tights. I borrowed it from my girlfriend at the time and never returned it. It’s black and made of stretchy material. I think of it as long underwear because that’s what I use it as. Plato said (I’m paraphrasing) that a thing is what it was made to be, whereas Aristotle said that a thing is what one uses it as. I side with Aristotle.

I just twisted the back around and read the label. It’s made of 52% cotton, 40% polyester, and 8% spanex. Also it’s from the Kathy Ireland Active Collection.

Just now while I was putting it on, the material in the left leg got bunched up in such a way that I couldn’t push my leg through. I mean that the material at the bottom had slipped up past my foot, so that by pushing down with my foot I created a kind of seal. The thing to do was take my foot out and unbunch the material and put my foot back through, but for whatever reason I lacked the patience to do this. Instead I pushed harder. While doing this I addressed the thing, the garment, my long underwear, saying, “Fuck you. Get the fuck up my fucking leg.”

This accomplished nothing, as you can imagine, so I stopped, one leg in the air, both hands clutching the fabric, and said, “I see. Fine. Now we’re going to use force.”