Monday, February 20, 2017

"Hot Girls in Thongs Type 111"


              It is 4:00 am and I can't sleep. D always tells me not to nap at 8 pm but what else am I supposed to do during sports. Sometimes after hours of staring at a blank wall next to the TV, where D is watching some random game he justifies as important, I ask myself, "have I made a terrible mistake? Do we have absolutely nothing in common?" Then I remember Taco Bell, Jeopardy, and Netflix. We are a 95% perfect match.
           Today I want to talk to you about my life-long experience with thongs. No, not the sandals. And please, I am begging you to stop referring to flip-flops as thongs. I am talking about the type of underwear worn by mostly women that is basically a thin permanent wedgie.

           People think of 'thong' as a dirty thing and a dirty word. I know I sure did when I first discovered them. I was in fifth grade with my best friend, Lauren. We were in a public chatroom on AOL. Relax mom, it wasn't chat-roulette. I was (and still am) the world's slowest two-finger typer, so Lauren did all the writing while I just watched and dictated. Whilst in the chatroom, a random individual wrote, "Hot girls in thongs type 111." "hmm, thongs must be dirty," I figured, as I reached across Lauren's God-given, fast typing hands, and wrote "111." Enter. I don't recall where the chat went from there but I do remember my conversation with Lauren went something like this:
"What is a thong anyway?"
"I think its an underwear for women that is like a really thin string" (my imagination instantly ran wild with the possibilities and discomfort of string underwear).
"I think my sister has some, wanna go check?"

            From that point on, I couldn't stop thinking about them. I asked my second best friend, Tina, if she had any useful information on thongs. She told me her mom found her older sister's self-purchased, privately hand-washed stash, and tossed them all out. In that case, thongs must be really bad. I mean, we went to the same church after all.

        I investigated further at what I considered to be the prime moment- Family Life Education (FLE), or as they used to call it, Sex Ed. FLE was my perverted ten year-old self's secretly favorite unit in science. At the end of class, we could turn in index cards with questions we were afraid to ask out loud. I wrote, "why do girls wear thongs?" Towards the end of class upon collection, Miss Feeny selected my card and responded, "because it makes them feel sexy, I guess.""Sexy is bad, they must be bad," I thought.

         I still couldn't get enough. I had to have one. An informant let me know that you could buy five for $25 (yeah I know, it's 5 for $27.50 nowadays) at Victoria's Secret Pink. I no longer needed one. I needed five. Since I was not the type to go shopping like a little mall rat with a pack of friends, I had to ask my mom. I strictly shop with my mom to this day. However, I still ask myself, do I shop with her because she buys me treats, or because I don't actually have friends?

        Eventually I built up the courage to ask my mom for some thongs. She said no. So I went to Lauren's house and asked her mom. She said no too. Then Lauren came up with a genius idea. She proposed that if she cleaned off her driveway with a leaf-blower, then her mom would have to reward her in thongs. It was fall in Virginia and people pay a lot to have their leaves cleared. I asked my mom too and she reluctantly agreed. While it was a great plan, Lauren still had it easier. Her driveway was the size of a parking spot and my driveway was so long and steep we got maybe three trick-or-treaters per year. A few days later, my work was done and my mom took me to Pink to pick out my five. I nervously and excitedly picked an eclectic variety of thongs, not one too similar to the next, but all perfectly coordinated when displayed together.

        Other than trying them on for fun or admiring them inside my underwear drawer, I never had the courage to actually wear one. Lauren told me her sister said they take some getting used to. The perfect opportunity arose when I received an invitation to J.D's birthday party. We weren't really friends so I think I was only invited because it was a murder mystery party and he needed a full roster of players. When it came time to get dressed for the party I selected an orange peasant maxi skirt and a hot pink top to match my "A-lister" thong. About five minutes in to my first thong expedition I had to bail. I specifically remember reaching my hand into my bum to repeatedly adjust that terrible thing I felt was slowly slicing me in half. I ended up attending the party in my 'day of the week' granny panties and having a great time, thanking myself over and over for the change.

        I didn't bother with a thong again until seventh grade. After all, isn't that a more appropriate time? Other girls are making out with boys and wearing miniskirts and eyeliner, so I could at least wear a thong. I busted out my old five for $25 stash and decided to give it another try. I went to this really weird private all-girls (and one boy) middle school. Our teacher kindly drove us into D.C. for the day to visit the old torpedo factory turned art gallery. I remember I wore head-to-toe super baggy sweats and a nice little thong. I was actually comfortable and really happy, I thought, "I could get used to this." Everything was going great until my world flipped upside down, leaving me with one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of my personal life.

           Upon heading back to my teacher's SUV, that one boy at my school pointed to the curb by our car and yelled, "EW, LOOK IT'S A THONG!" The entire school (all 12 of us) gathered around it. In my memory they were poking it with a stick, but I don't think that actually happened. They were totally freaking out though. So was I for a whole different reason. My stomach dropped. It was a very familiar thong. Perhaps some nasty street harlot dropped one just like mine, with the same green, pink, and white polka dots, in my size, from PINK, right outside of my specific mode of transportation. I calmly looked down at it and said, "oh wow, thats so gross"(you know, to avoid suspicion). Internally I was freaking out. I couldn't pick it up, you know?! Paranoia set in. I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow (not really but you get the picture).
I thought, "did my thong somehow fall off and out of my pants when I got out of the car?" Not possible. I was still wearing underwear.  
"Are thongs really that appalling?" Clearly.
"Was it quite possibly someone else's?" Yes. That was my self-justifying answer. Someone happened to drop the same exact thong as me right outside my car. I truly believed that for a long time, too. Once I realized my "similar" thong never turned up at my house, I had to come up with a new theory. One of my best bets is that it was stuck somewhere on my baggy sweats from the dryer and just fell off upon exiting the vehicle. However, I am just going to assume Tina's mom threw it away.

             Following that traumatic event, I took another multi-year break from thongs. In 2009, yoga pants became cool at my high school. I had no choice but to learn to love thongs, and I truly did. I bought two more sets of five for (what was now) $26 and established my stash for life (well, my non-married life at least). #mormonproblems

             Now it is 2012 and I am in college at a small LDS liberal arts school with a very strict modesty code (Disclaimer: I absolutely adored this school and this one thing I am about to criticize has since changed for the better). The enforcers of this strict, inconsistent, subjective, double standard of a code, were members of the honor council. Have you seen the cartoon, "Recess," before? Picture Randall the snitch with a clipboard x15. I tried to avoid these types at all cost with the exception of one. He meant well and he was a really good person. He was one of my bases on the cheer team so I totally trusted him. Since I was sick of seeing a frustratingly inconsistent standard of rules I asked him, "what justifies pants being 'too tight' and worthy of a fine (yes, a fine)?" He replied, "well, if we can see your underwear line then your pants are too tight." I tried not to bust out laughing at how idiotic yet adorably innocent (and untrue) that statement was. One, a major portion of our school is married and wearing G's (not explaining those to my non-LDS readers but you can learn about them here). Two, the other half of girls (maybe not that many, it was an LDS school after all) are probably wearing thongs. Therefore, in both cases, no underwear lines are visible (I take that back because in G's you do have an obnoxious little underwear line... three inches above your knee). At that point I realized thongs are not dirty, rebellious, scandalous, or immoral. Maybe some select thongs designed as lingerie are but definitely not the kind you buy from Pink to avoid a panty line ("ew, she said panty I hate that word"- every girl ever *eye roll*). At my special little liberal arts college, when you avoid the line, you avoid the fine. Jk. They could fine you based on whatever they want whenever they want. I digress.

      Okay so it is now 2014 and I am married and attending WVU, the number one party school in the country. Yeah, my life didn't go as planned and I didn't end up at BYU like everyone else, and that is okay. I am so happy I did something different. I also hadn't really worn a thong in a couple years thanks to the G's. At WVU, a school literally loaded with hot girls, I always felt like I was wearing the dorkiest clothes/undergarments, in addition to wearing ten times more clothes than everyone else. I abandoned that idea entirely the second semester of Junior year when I was waiting in line at the bookstore to get financially demolished, yet again. Just when I thought I couldn't possibly be more bored I took a peek at the yoga pants bum in front of me. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped. The girl in front of me had four butt cheeks. I couldn't believe what I saw. Four butt cheeks. It was like she was some sort of X-men character. I was confused because I never saw anything like it in the Ocean City Ripley's Believe it or Not Museum. She at the very least needed to apply for a Guinness World Record, I thought (I get that book for Christmas every year and want it signed). I also had seen the Venice Beach Freak Show series. I am dead serious. She would be perfect. One thong induced wedgie was enough for me, could you imagine having three at once? I wish so badly I took a picture and asked for an autograph.  

       My moment of awe came crashing down when I admitted to myself that she just wore a regular old pair of tight-fitting underwear with yoga pants. She broke the number one rule of yoga pants. Thank goodness she didn't go to my little LDS school because she would be fined so severely she couldn't afford those textbooks she was about to buy (or the 5 for $25 for that matter).

        Now it is 2017. I don't really get a chance to wear thongs, but they aren't all that bad. They are literally designed to avoid a panty line. That is all, Mr. Pervert on AOL. Miss Feeny, why didn't you tell me that sooner? They are not the raunchy undergarments of the underworld like I was raised to believe. Thongs are great for working out. Thongs are perfect for travel because they take up almost no space (unlike G's which is really hard for someone like me who likes to pack as little as possible). Thongs are perfect for more form fitting clothes. They are more sanitary than going commando. They are comfortable and convenient for those that choose to wear them. They are not designed strictly to be sexy for men. If I wanted to look sexy, trust me, I am not about to wear something that fully exposes my borderline concave cheeks (oh, thanks Miss Feeny for teaching me "concave" though). So in the end, some people like them, others don't. Personally, at this point i'm still a fan. However, I only actually get to wear them when I workout. Which is never. So, if your daughter wants a thong, just get it for her. She will be fine. Trust me.

     It's 4:52am I think I will go to bed now.


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