they pay to kiss your feet

since there's no one else around, we let our hair grow long and forget all we used to know. then our skin gets thicker from living out in the snow.

Friday, November 18, 2005

In the mirror, don't neglect your rear.

I have made this fatal mistake. One crisp November day last year, I went straight from the gym to Gary Gribbles to replace my lovingly worn out running shoes. I was wearing form-fitting workout capris, a t-shirt and a fleece jacket. I was also wearing regular cut underwear. It seemed a logical decision at the time. I was going to put on pants, but first, I was going to put on underpants. Just like every other day of my life. So, I did and I went to the gym where I climbed on the elliptical machine that was right in front of a row of treadmills, which were all being used by people running with nowhere to look except for at the themselves in the mirror, at the television protruding from the wall or at my butt, which I thought might have looked okay, but I still was feeling self-conscious and wondered if it jiggled when I used the machine, or if it looked like a solid mass of muscle. I figured it was somewhere in between these options. Little did I know that how much or how little it moved in waves as I worked out was the least of my concerns.

So, right after my workout, I’m at Gary Gribbles and I’ve got on this great pair of Asics and I’m looking in the mirror at them and then, I turned around to talk to Nick or to check out some running socks or to answer the sales guy. Really, I don’t remember what caused me to look at the mirror as I turned around. Maybe vanity. Maybe not. But if it was vanity, it was squashed the second I noticed my panty line and bunched up regular cut underwear staring back at me. “That looks horrible,” I thought. “I can’t believe I left the house like this. I can’t believe I never noticed. How could I have made this ultimate fashion error?”

And so, from that day forward when I head off to the gym in my form fitting black running capris or when I head off to work in Khakis or a skirt, I am a wiser underwear chooser. But the glorious understanding of the benefits of certain types of underwear is coupled with the curse of noticing panty lines on other people, and it makes me want to scream and tell the poor, unfortunate soul bearing everything they’ve got and then some for the whole world to see to turn around and check themselves out. I want to take them to a mirror, turn them around and say, “See! See what everyone is seeing. Now, let me show you how much better your butt would look if you had a smooth silhouette.” I want to teach them the magic of the thong and why it is the only underwear option for certain styles of pants and running attire and mostly, I want to change the stigma behind that lovely creation.


  • At 12:49 PM, Blogger Tara said…

    I am so glad someone else feels the same way I do about the thong!!! It is like talking to a brick wall when I try to convince friends & family!

  • At 3:27 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I dunno, it's a toss-up. It's either pantylines or everyone knows you are so vain, you're willing to walk around all day with fabric shoved up your ass crack.


Post a Comment

<< Home