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It's not every day that I break a 30 year-old record.

And I guess not everyone would consider what I did breaking a record, but it's as close as I'm ever going to get.

I bought new underwear.

In all of my 30 years, I have never successfully purchased my own new underpants (or even old ones, for that matter.)

Up until last week, I had the same 12 pair of underwear since roughly the 8th grade. They were perfectly conformed to me, happily set in the same wear-rotation for many years. They accompanied me for most of my fondest memories. They were there as I made the transition into high school, for my fist kiss and even on my wedding day.

This is something I am extremely proud of; one of those "special" things I hold very close to my heart. (The memory. Not the underwear. That would be gross.)

I probably should have never disposed of them.

But I did. I guess the underwear deserved to be put to rest. At least that's what people are telling me. They had lived through horrendous camping trips, countless wedgies, cheap laundry detergent and more presidential elections than I care to remember. This all took a toll on the sacred cotton shorts, turning them a light shade of gray with more holes than actual fabric. (Truthfully, they looked like a weasel had gotten a hold of them, but I'll never admit that.)

The life span of underwear really is pretty amazing, when they are properly taken care of. I can think of various pets which weren't taken care of as well as that old underwear. It had grown and expanded right along with me, from the flat stomach of high school to the slight spare tire of today. I had planned on my underwear living to see the days of Large Pot Belly, then sliding into the home-stretch of Decrepit Old Man. Sadly, that will never happen.

This situation would never have been brought into the public if:
A. I had never gotten married
B. Christmas was somehow forgotten this year.

My wife was doing the laundry recently, when she held up one of my underpants and finally said, "What the hell is this? A fish net?"

She couldn't believe I would purposely put something like that on my naked body, much less that it still served its intended purpose. (Which I later found out with my new underwear, it didn't.)

So, it was then I was informed that I would be using part of a Christmas gift certificate on new underwear.

I don't think I'm alone here. I think most guys would be outraged by the thought of someone making them throw out 12 of their favorite pair of underwear. In fact, I

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