I am visiting an old friend. Over dinner, her husband makes reference to the “PF” she has under her skirts. She blushes purple and leaves the table. I imagine unruly leg hair or a penis. I ask her what “PF” means. She takes a deep breath, and shows me what she describes as her DEEPEST SECRET SHAME. It is a box of disposable underpants, 30 in a box, for $7. The name on the box says PANTIES FINE.