She died with her granny pants on

I have a secret fear- one that is about to be revealed for the first time ever for public consumption. I fear dying wearing bad undies. There its out. I feel so much better. Obviously death is not an appealing thought for anyone, but dying whilst wearing dodgy undies makes it that much worse (Yes I am THAT shallow) .
Today whilst driving home in my new dress (yes the Target slogan won) and my super huge granny pants on (a pair of pre-weight loss body shaping wonders i found in a cupboard clean out last week - SCORE!) I envisaged the following scenario.
Insert horrific incident of choice that renders me unconscious and in dire need of emergency help. Ambos arrive on scene and see i need resuscitation and quite possibly defibrillation. Start to cut away dress (in reality that would rouse me from the deepest of comas!) but in my fantasy I remain unconscious. Next minute loud and raucous laughter fills the air. Onlookers are astounded as i am hovering on deaths door. "bahahahahahahahahahahahahah, check out the pants on this chick mate" says ambo 1 to ambo 2
"They could double as a parachute! A herd of elephants could stand under these babies for shelter!  She would cause a solar eclipse when she hangs these bad boys on the line! They seriously come up to her bra. You really must check them out"   Meanwhile I am fading further away as the ambos are rolling on the ground laughing at my offending underwear.
"We need back up, man down! man down! " says ambo 2 as ambo 1 begins choking from laughing so much.  I can see the incident report they will write upon my untimely death.
"Patient could have been saved had life saving resuscitation taken place quicker. Ambo 1 also could have  administered above mentioned resus had he not died laughing at the patients unfortunate choice of underwear Diagnosis: death from 'pantius  maximus'"
My headstone would read " Here lies Angie, she died with her granny pants on"  I think i will throw those pants away now