Call them what you like but I am the butt of a joke (no pun intended) between my friends over my knickers. My knickers are like divas; loud, big and proud. I’m all about the comfort, outrageous patterns and colours that clash monstrously with my bras. I have no fear of plane crashes as they double up quite handsomely as parachutes. Whereas my friends like to rock the lacy dental floss attire.
This gets me thinking about the relationship my gender has with underwear. We (possibly every woman/girl except myself) wear thongs and G-strings so our clothing doesn’t reveal the dreaded VPL (visible panty line) or better still do a Gwyneth Paltrow and go commando. I have had friends who say “Well this dress I have, you just can’t wear underwear with or you will see it.”
Huh? What? Hold the phone! Are we saying it is more acceptable that others see our Lady Garden than heaven forbid know that we wear underwear? If I might add the boys get to go round with their boxer covered bottoms rudely on display and yet we girlies try to hide any inclination that we are wearing undies. Erm…Why?
I know it’s no secret that knickerty knacks exist because of that oh so depressing and high pressure holiday, Valentine’s Day, which spurs a whole load of lovely pants to be bought for us by our (my non exsistant) boyfriends and paraded about.
So through all this confusion of panty pants I will remain confuddled but firm in my pioneering efforts… We do wear knickers and baby… mine are freaking huge!