What is WITH them? See, here's what I don't understand. Stylish women used to buy thongs so as not to have a pantyline. It makes sense after all. If preventing the world from knowing that you wear underwear is important enough to ride a permanent wedgie all day long, then by all means, thong away. If that oh so faint line framing your buttocks is so very unsightly, then sure, the thong is the way to go. (For the record though, I've yet to meet a man who didn't find a panty-line both intriguing and attractive. I'm just sayin'...) All of a sudden though, we've got everyone AND their 12 year old daughters wearing them, with low-riding, pube-skimming, painted-on jeans, so that when they lean forward just the tiniest bit, the whole freaking thing appears, rising from the landscape of the beltline to shine forth like a pair of McDonald arches.
And I ask you... does this make sense? Does. This. Make. Sense?
If the purpose of the thong is to prevent a pantyline, why would you specifically wear it with pants that show it off to the whole world to see? You might as well hire background singers to follow you wherever you go, so that they can break into a chorus of "I see London, I see France..." everytime you bend over to pick something up.
I DID have a point, you know. And here it is. It would seem that the time has come for me to alter my choice of foundation garment. A pair of closer colleagues noted that the other day, while I was stylin' in my new pair of size 10 pants, now that I'm sporting less junk in my trunk; and now that I can wear a flesh-hugging seat rather than the loose bunch of size 16 material that I chose for camouflage purposes only... perhaps the granny pants were not the way to go. The suggested that now that I don't absolutely NEED a full hammock-sized panty to support the derriere, that a thinner, more delicate, line-hiding bottom-holder would be more appropriate.
In other words? The thong, they said, was the only way to go.
Gah! Do you know how frightening that whole thought is? I could be wearing two full piece snowsuits over top, but if I was sporting something that didn't hold the cheeks together, I'd feel born-free and birthday-suited. And seriously uncomfortable. And frankly, I like a good ass coverage. It's part of my comfort zone. Flannel pyjamas in the winter, socks until May, and an all-time-zone pair of underwear.
Maybe in a few months. Or a few more pounds. Or some therapy. Until then... I'm sticking with good old-fashioned Hanes.
You think this is bad... you should have seen me the first time I had to buy a black bra!
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