The World As Mare Sees It...
Ridin' along, singin' my song... 2003-03-20










Oh. My. God.

I am so frightfully uncomfortable right now, I'm ready to explode.

Does everyone remember this little conundrum I was having?

I finally decided, upon the advice of every damn woman I've asked except my mother, to make the purchase of A Thong. A Distinctly Uncomfortable Thong.

People, I take back every word I've ever said that berates my mother even in the slightest. The woman is a genius. Ladies, listen to your mother. If she says that panty lines don't matter, for the love of God, listen to her!

Today I donned the Wonder Pants of Greatness and Size 10 that, despite the diet setback, still manage to fit my bottom in a fitted and fetching manner. Since those are the pants that always garnered the most panty-line criticism, I thought it best to baptise the floss underneath them.

Oy vey, people! Oy freaking vey! Again I ask... what's so wrong with a panty-line? I feel like I've got the mother of all wedgies lodged up there. It's like little beavers went searching and decided that this was a good place to build a dam! I swear the thing feels like it's getting bigger! Within the first hour, it went from a quarter inch of flimsy material to a couple of two by fours! Since I've started writing this, it has increased in size and discomfort to the point where it feels like somebody has inserted a surfboard between the cheeks. Sideways.

The worst part was putting them on in the first place. I immediately tensed up, because my bum is a smart bum, and it knows enough to avoid foreign objects. It only understands a full coverage, and immediately revolted against the idea of divided territory. Unlike Bush, my ass is pretty damn sure that that's a weapon in there, and has decided to stage a revolution.

The women I've asked have told me, "to give it a few days" and "once you get used to it, you'll never go back" and "Hee hee hee! That's funny! Hee hee!"

Hmph. Funny. I'll give you funny. My hands keep wanting to go back there and grab furiously, and the fact that there isn't anything there to grab just may drive me mad!

So now I'm wondering how bad it would be if I spent the rest of the workday a la commando?

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