Yeah, I’m talking about underwear today.

I could put up one of those tasty disclaimers like, For those of you who are Victorian prudes easily offended, please skip this one and wait for the next blog post.  But, words like those are disingenuous as they only serve to pique one’s interest.

What is it about these particular articles of clothing that stirs the pot so?  The mere mention of the word “underwear” by a woman can make a man stop in mid-track and listen.  The a brief flutter of lace can cause some of us to run our cars off the road in distraction.  The utterance of the word can reduce an elementary school child to hysterical laughter [And I’ve conducted scientific research on this theory with my kindergartner].

The fact is, all most of us wear them everyday.  In light of this ubiquity, you would think that we would become used to (and alternatively blasé about) the concept.   Not so much.

Nurses and Victoria’s Secret employees aside, the rest of us are still highly intrigued by what people got on under their clothes.

In my (albeit limited) experience, the fantasy and the reality tend to diverge sharply.  The first is an exciting, curvy road hugging the breath-taking Amalfi coast.  The other is a four-lane interstate bypassing the industrial complexes of Duluth.

Even with this knowledge, most of us still continue to pay close attention to this subject.  Some of us go so far to write about it.  In that manner, underwear have an enduring quality in the collective consciousness of society.

This writer is of two minds on the subject.  For one, I would wake up early every day of my life to catch a glimpse of Running Girl in her skivvies.  On the other hand, I would cross the street, cut through a neighbor’s yard and hop the fence, Ferris Bueller-style to avoid dealing with Island Boy’s Tighty Spidies ever again.

I must also acknowledge the Snake River Canyon gap between men’s interest in woman’s underwear and vice versa.  That’s not to say that woman are totally indifferent on the subject.  But according to my local expert, women are not into it as deeply as men.  “That’s because we do most of the laundry,” says Running Girl.

On a personal level (not me personally — no one wants to read that), we all have our favorites.  We whip them out on for special occasions.  Most of the time, nobody knows.  However, there are memorable showings as well.  These occasions can linger in the consciousness for a considerable time.

We have undies for our low times as well.   Sometimes we favor comfort over style.  The great thing is that this is among the most personal of our choices — no one else need become aware of our selection.  In this sense, maybe Victoria knew what the hell she was talking about.  Not the queen — the other one.

Let’s talk sports.  Over the past 25 years or so, Nike and other sports apparel companies have made a killing, while completely retooling the way we prepare to exercise.  Talk about great support!

At times, various entertainers and designers have brought underwear to the fore, so to speak.  Madonna raised exposing your underwear to strangers to an absolute art form.  And love ’em or hate ’em, Calvin Klein’s ads are positively revolutionary.  Particularly when they are blasted 40 feet up in the Manhattan skyline, 40 feet wide.

I suppose there may come a time when you give up style entirely as a function of age.  Pull out the white flag and go, Fuck it.  I’m only wearing comfortable granny panties from now on.  On this score, I’m reminded of the great Who lyric, “Hope I die before I get old.”

Temple Garments

I want to touch very briefly (pun intended) on religion and underwear.  It is not my intention to pick on Mormons.  Lord knows, there is an entire Broadway show devoted to that pursuit.  But, LDSers have special drawers.  It’s a fact.  I think it’s cool.  The wearing of underwear is such an intimate affair that you can put on a special garment that only your creator knows about.  Hey God, wink wink, this one’s just between us, right?

The other great thing about your jockeys is that you can mount a minor lifestyle change overnight with little to no consequence.  That’s right, you can:

  • Breathe the air on Planet Microbrief
  • Vacation on Thong Island
  • Go a few rounds in boxers, or
  • Celebrate Cowboys and Indians

right next to your naked skin.  And it ain’t nobody’s business if you do.  If it doesn’t work out, no big.  Go back to your oldY-fronts (as the Brits are known to call them) tomorrow.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen (and chicks too)

Lend me your ears.

I come to praise underwear, not to bury them.

— The Major


3 responses to this post.

  1. Posted by Kana Tyler on October 7, 2011 at 6:55 pm

    Love it! My oldest [step]daughter–who’s a few years younger than I, and who has made me “Granny” three times over–told me recently that whatever sexy undies I might wear, they’re still, by definition, “Granny panties” now… 😉


  2. I need to find the “I love bacon” panties for my wife…


  3. Posted by adamselsdiscontent on October 8, 2011 at 1:28 pm

    I’m constantly amazed at what Victoria’s Secret puts in writing on their underwear. You’re right. No one wants to read it. And the thing that disturbs me most, when I see girls buying the tacky pairs with some “sexy” writing on it, they’re like ages 10-14!


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