Aha. So today was the day. No more panty lines, said I. I snapped the smallest two-pack of g-string underwear I could find off the rack at Target with unperturbable determination.
“I figure you might as well have a small piece of fabric in your butt, instead of a giant clump,” my helpful shopping friend said.
“Or just half your underwear, which is worse,” I reasoned. Good. I pitched the tiny two-pack into the cart and they floated to the bottom in a sinister fashion.
What happened after I got out of the shower this morning was a different story. I held up the minuscule piece of fabric I had selected to be my guinea-floss and hesitated. I felt like Ye Olde Virgin Bride: “You want me to put what? In where???”
I had serious doubts that I could even get the item in question over my hips. I have been living in quasi-grannypannies ever since I had Miss Frannie, since they are so crapping comfortable…safe…like wine-in-a-box is safe because you know you will feel awful if you drink too much and, hey, it doesn’t taste very good anyhow. But now I was switching to some Cristal.
“Oh c’mon,” I said to myself. “You’ve been working out, you can do this.” I asked myself the important question I always ask when faced with a situation that involves potential trampiness: “What would the Hilton Sisters do?” Then I realized that they are so wee that one half of my butt could be Nicky’s whole body and the other half could be Paris‘s, and that I should probably leave them out of this. Although how cool would it be to name my buttcheeks after them?
I put it on. Felt okay. Ran for a mirror check and then realized I would be wearing slightly baggy jeans over them anyhow. My ass was free! I felt so liberated. I flexed one buttcheek and then the other, and as I flexed I imagined that the Hilton sisters were catfighting over who would get to bump the last rail. The slightly uglier cheek would be named Nicky. “Get her, Paris! Pull her hair!” Jiggle, jiggle.
Then I wondered if people could tell. I mean, we’re all naked under our clothes, yes, but some of us are more dressed than others. Would people sense my almost-nudity? Would I be giving off the dirty-bird vibe all day, even more than I do already? Who did I think I was, anyway? Did I think Seattle had suddenly become Rio Freaking de Janeiro? I went red, and since I was looking backwards in the mirror I could see that Nicky and Paris went red, too.
Okay. I am breathing again. I left them on and got dressed, and as I write I am sitting on a friendly little strip of fabric that, as my friend said, would normally be a big clump. I wonder if I will miss squirming in class? Probably. What if they get wedged in so far that a black-hole situation is created and the thong gets sucked into my body, doomed to get lost and float around for years, just like we all thought tampons could before we started our periods?
Wish me luck for today, and if it all ends in a disaster I have only the mysterious and powerful Gods of Ovulation to blame, who make me do stupid things like this.
is it bad to admit you like wearing thongs? If they fit right, they aren’t uncomfortable. And they…. nevermind..
Very wilting-Victorian, that previous comment. In contrast: when I was 19, an ex with whom I was about to have Ex Sex invited me to take the tampon out of her myself. Strange experience… I thought of Talking Malibu Stacy
ewwwww
Jack! No! ik!
Miss SJ, I congratulate you on your newfound arse-cheek freedom. The thong is also good to moon people with. In fact, I think that’s why they were invented. To maintain your dignity while you have your arse waving around out of a car window.
Monkey: Ummm….hee!
i’ve recently taken the final step – once from granny panties to bikinis, bikinis to thongs, and now, after 4 years of dedicated thong wearage – to nothing at all. each step has been a remarkable liberation. good for you.
This whole “thong” thing is very mysterious to me. Why bother with them at all? I don’t wear any underwear whenever possible. Cuz like, underwear is just soooo 20th century and thongs are soooo Y2K. ;)
no panty lines, huh? hmmm. maybe MY ass would look good in some floss.
but i doubt it. i’ll stick with the boxer briefs.
or commando.
I guess I’m of the school of “wearing very little is sexier than being nude.” Silly, I know.
And whatever happened to girdles? Why don’t they make them in cute colors? Like that gross beige “flesh” tone is fooling anyone.
If I’m going to be vacuum-packed into what feels like a boa constrictor’s stomach just so I can appear to have rock-hard butt cheeks, at least let it be decorated with printed flowers, or lobsters, or barbie heads, or something. And the whalebone-thingies should be done with an eye towards the decorative — so when you shuck the girdle off, your damp flesh has been imprinted with some amusing pattern or slogan.
Until then, I will stick with my mens’ boxers. The pregnancy granny-panties don’t fit me anymore, though I miss the pair I had that was like size 26W with a leopard print.
When I was thirteen I took Karate for a year.
This is relevant because absolutely nothing else in my life would have compelled me to purchase, let alone wear, a jock strap. Never having seen a jock strap before I was required to wear one, I wasn’t really prepared for the reality when I took it out of the box in the locker room at my dojo. I’d already had to struggle through the question of what cup size I wanted (they go from “self-esteem destroying” all the way up to “attracts unwanted attention from people across the street”). And now here was this
Hee hee hee. You should really write a book, Joshua. :)
“wearing very little is sexier than being nude.”
SJ: Totally agree.
Good luck SJ! Thong away. I’m into variety with respect to underwear and so I fully endose your attempts at creating underwear variety…I should say: My underwear does not ordinarily ride into my butt cheeks. I’m sort of into the thong-like undwear which are designed to remain strip-like instead of floss-like.
You are an inspiration…
Mostly I like to wear all-cotton panties (like the victoria’s secret bikini-style ones), and on occasion I wear thongs, but I cannot stand the g-string style — strangely I am actually more aware of the butt floss g-string than the thong. I suppose I never thought much about wearing thongs until I started waxing down there instead of shaving (which was after having a kid and after getting tattooed).
Is it true that if you have a skinny ass, your underwear just magically doesn’t ride up?
I wouldn’t know…
No, I’ve had a skinny ass as well as a fat ‘un and underwear are just designed to go where no man has gone before. Well, not often anyway.
Culcha lesson: in Australia,
Thongs are called G-strings
G-strings are called V-strings and
Flip-flops are called thongs.
And what would be called ‘flip-flops’? Going braless with saggies?
Anyway, that was a good blog entry, SJ :-) I identified with you, even though I’m a bloke who’s been about as imaginative and adventurous in the underwear department as, um, a bloke who *still* wears Y-fronts. I am a bloke who *still* wears Y-fronts. Hmmm, I think I’ll blog about the reason…
Hope you’re enjoying your liberation! :-)
just reading this entry again, the title is so gold. GOLD!
so does anyone know why they are called G-strings or thongs? i’m trying to figure it out. someone HELP!