I felt bad the other day when I was working at the coffee shop, because I laughed a little at a middle aged woman who went into the restaurant next door with her five year old daughter in tow. She wasn’t aware of her predicament, and I wasn’t inclined to inform her, as it would have been embarrassing for both of us.
To her credit, she was wearing the proper underwear, considering her attire, but not entirely to its full potential. White shorts – another unfortunate invention – a white sleeveless top, with a beige thong. Skin tone, so as to not be noticeable and a thong to prevent panty lines – I’m following her train of thought, believe me. I’m sure you’re wondering how I know so much about her underwear, too, aren’t you? I know what kind she was wearing for a certainty because she had this poor beige piece of spandex-infused cotton dragged further up her hip than was absolutely necessary, and had managed to tuck her shirt tail into the actual thong.
I couldn’t stop eyeballing that two inch by five inch span of exposed flesh. I couldn’t imagine a time in my life where I was so completely unaware of what I was doing when I pulled up my underwear.
I’m not trying to be overly critical, as I’m not exactly the worlds most pretentious and superficial person. I have a morning schedule that enables me to leave the house in less than 30 minutes for work. That schedule includes rolling out of bed at 7:00, brushing my teeth, showering in ten minutes, and sitting on my bed for five minutes staring at my racks of clothes trying to muster up enough brainpower to put together an outfit that looks somewhat professional. Then, in the remaining 12 minutes, I comb and dry (sort of) my hair, smush some gel through it, lotion my face and legs, get dressed, close the window, turn off the fan, make sure I have my cell and my journal-thingie, pack a few items for lunch, then walk out the door. That’s it.
It’s not that I don’t care about my appearance. I do. I check the mirror every so often to get updates on the status of food in my teeth or bags under my eyes and why, oh why, my butt bubbles quite like it does. But for the most part, I’m pretty comfortable that I look the same as I always do, so what good is staring at myself?
I think the reason this woman caught my eye is because of my recent preoccupation with underwear. It’s odd, but I’ve recently begun a kick of wearing it again. I didn’t, not for the longest time. Going commando shaved an additional 45 seconds from my prep time, so why wear it?
Underwear, though not exactly in the forefront of our minds, has a habit of peeking out to grab your attention when you don't think it will.
Remember when getting that traditional Christmas gift from your parents was the most mortifying experience of the day? You KNEW it was under the tree, waiting, lurking malevolently, wrapped in pretty paper, possibly disguised as that really cool pair of boots you reallyreallyreally wanted. When it finally landed in your lap to be opened, you held your breath, closed the box quickly and muttered a thank you to your beaming parents. The “Underwear Box” was a thing to be embarrassed of, to be quickly put away and forgotten about, your My Little Pony panties disposed of – neatly folded in the top drawer.
When I was 17, I was in a pretty bad car accident with a friend of mine. The EMT was cutting my jeans and sweatshirt off to attend to lacerations and possible broken bones when I heard him exclaim “Winnie the Pooh!” I was bloody and crying and hurting, and still this guy noticed my Winnie the Pooh little kid style panties – it shocked me right out of being in pain. Admittedly, he was cute, but I never wore that underwear again.
And just a few years ago, I was a thong addict. I have no problem admitting this. Places like those teeny bopper stores where cute, itty bitty thongs could be had five for $20 were my weakness and my downfall. I had more pairs of skimpy underthings than you could imagine – at one count, I had enough that I could skip doing laundry for two months and still have a fresh pair for every day.
At this point, all of those pairs have been tossed out, because we all know how long cheap underwear – or cheap anything – lasts. That’s when I went through the no underwear stage – and stayed for a good long time.
I guess I’m getting older now, or my tastes have changed, because I’ve been having odd thoughts lately. Things like boy-shorts and bikinis catch my eye – things I haven’t thought of in years. Things I haven’t worn with that much coverage since I was nine. I’m not quite sure what this means. I hope I’m still hip and sexy. I can’t get old TOO quickly, can I?!
As my friend at the coffee shop said when I pointed out the obvious underwear being dragged into public exposure – “Maigen, one day you’ll be her. Kids to take care of and things to do and errands to run and a life to live and not really all that concerned about the state of your underwear other than the fact that you are, indeed, wearing it.” And I sat there for a moment and thought about that scenario. Then I said “I think you’re right. And I think I’m okay with that.”
Granny Panties and all.
Maigen is simple. is smart. is wholesome. is skeevy. is spicy. is delicate. is better. is purer. is 100% more awesome than yesterday. She';s traveling the world and writing about her experiences with life, love, yoga, food, travel and people. Mostly people. Because they';re funny. hear more of her random thoughts @maigen on twitter.
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6.29.05 @ 4:16a
The EMT was cutting my jeans and sweatshirt off to attend to lacerations and possible broken bones when I heard him exclaim “Winnie the Pooh!”
Heh, guys don't have this to worry about. We're exhorted by our parents to wear clean underwear in case of an accident. Whether we heed that advice or not, no one has to tell us about not wearing the Underoos once we're past seven or eight years old.
Luckily for you, though, Winnie the Pooh is at least halfway cool. You would have been really mortified had you been discovered wearing the Strawberry Shortcakes or the Care Bears. Or worse, the Thursdays on a Monday.
6.29.05 @ 8:46a
In the world of underwear exposure, I'm considerably more forgiving when a parent does it by mistake than of an adult or teen that does it intentionally.
Being a parent, I know what it's like to walk around with underwear exposed, have button down shirts not buttoned properly, t-shirts on backwards, ect.
It isn't because I don't know how to dress myself, nor do I want the extra attention. Sometimes a parent just has one of those days where their mind is completely elsewhere.How they look is low on the priority list just like everybody else from time to time.
For the people that have their undies exposed intentionally, that's brings on a whole other set of thoughts.
People that are 20 pounds or more over weight should not be walking around with belly shirts with a pair of hip huggers so the world can admire the sporty thong or G-string that the person is wearing. The front view of these people is just as bad as the back. A fat roll hanging over the front of their jeans, and just as much as of a roll hanging out the back and sides.
Then we have the teens walking around with pants that hang down past their asses and think airing their boxers is cool. I often wonder what these people's opinions are on issues like "plumber's crack."
As disgusting as it is, I always pray for a loaded chaulking gun to drop into my hands at the very moment.
It hasn't happened yet, so instead I have to say things in passing like "Please say no to crack" and hope that the crack bearer understands where I'm going with such a vague statement. To say "Hey! Your the crack of your ass is showing! For the sake of all humanity, pull up your pants and buy a belt for crying out loud!" will never be considered acceptable.
Fortunately we live in a very fad driven society. According to a magazine article I read recently, thongs are becoming a thing of the past.
It is a guess that perhaps if a person were to mention to this mom with the 5 year old in tow that her thong was hanging out, she would have rectified the problem. She probably would have been embarrased, but that would be better than having to be the butt of everybodies jokes for the day.
6.29.05 @ 10:21a
You would have been really mortified had you been discovered wearing the Strawberry Shortcakes or the Care Bears.
Are you kidding? Too-cute undies + cute girl = Sexy. The sure sign of a girl who 1) doesn't take anything too seriously; 2) has a playful mind when it comes to covering her kitty. That's so much more interesting to discover than just another pair of pastel cotton 5-for-$7 briefs from Walmart.
6.29.05 @ 10:57p
...Skin tone, so as to not be noticeable and a thong to prevent panty lines...
Thank you. I've always wondered what the purpose of a thong was, other than to make garment manufacturers a ton of money for a little material?
6.29.05 @ 11:25p
"covering her kitty"? How adorably euphemistic of you, Russ.
I'm very persnickety about my skitters. No Winnie The Poohs, no day-of-the-weeks, no granny panties.
And I think that's all I'm willing to share.
6.29.05 @ 11:35p
a ton of money for a little material
You know, it's funny you should say that.
There's a young lady who used to work at the restaurant, who still comes in to hang out and visit with us. You have to understand - she was raised in a very sheltered environment where things like relationships were just not discussed. She is a single mom now of a five-year-old, because she was so naive she believed everything that came out of the guy's mouth. She is quite a bit wiser about a lot of those things now, and until recently has steered clear of guys.
Anyway ... She still doesn't always understand the finer points of dating. We - she and a bunch of us at the restaurant - got on the conversation of her shiny new boyfriend, how great he is, and how she'd really like to take it to that next step. Which somehow led to the conversation about bras and underwear, and about how she didn't really know if it mattered what she wore on the big occasion, or if so, what to get.
I told her she should probably go get some of the nice lacy stuff, because guys always appreciate things like that. I urged her to go splurge if she could afford it and get something from Frederick's or VS. At the very least, find a really nice matching set (both bra and panties) at Wal-Mart or Target.
She came back in a couple days ago and told me that the advice worked, and he really noticed; but even at Wal-Mart, the undies were awfully expensive for no more than was there. And I told her, "When you buy lacy stuff, you're not buying the material, you're buying the artfully arranged spaces between the material."
7.1.05 @ 2:23a
While we're on the subject, check out these high-tech draw'rs.
7.1.05 @ 10:09a
Panties with a GPS. What WILL they think of next? That is wrong on so many levels I can't even go there.
7.1.05 @ 11:15p
I can't even go there
Not without someone knowing about it, you can't.
7.1.05 @ 11:43p
And with the whole heart rate/body temperature telemetry, significant others will know your comings as well as your goings.