My mom spends so much time planchando that we call the iron her boyfriend. I introduced myself to him at a very young age. In fact, one of my first memories involves me pressing my palm to the hot plate of the (hot) iron. Ever since I started in with the iron he's been burning me. I'm not good at ironing either. I bring this up because the new pants I bought are not wash and wear (unfortunately.) I decided to iron my pants, and several shirts that have been hanging in the closet forever so that I'd have more things to wear to work. I managed not to burn myself--which is a big deal. My moms boyfriend hates me and I don't like him much either.