Am I The Only One Who Hates Thongs?


Let me start off by saying that I am very comfortable with my sexuality. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been taught to be both knowledgeable and comfortable with all things related to bodily functions, specifically those concerning the nether regions. My maternal grandfather was an OB/GYN, and my mom is a medical assistant for an OB/GYN, so it’s fair to say that vaginas are our business. Penises are a common topic of conversation between my mother and me during dinner, or walking through the mall, or anytime, really. We talk about our vaginas the way most people talk about the weather.

That being said, when it comes to my underwear, I may as well be the biggest prude in the world.

Maybe I’m old-fashioned. Maybe I’m weird. But I’m a granny panties girl all the way. In high school, I could see that the other girls in the locker room were sporting lacy Victoria’s Secret thongs that made their asses look amazing. But I just couldn’t do it.

Thongs fundamentally SUCK. The very anatomy of a thong is meant to cause pain and discomfort for women everywhere, and I’m over it. First, there’s the g-string. I’ve always had a thick mane, so I’ve already spent most of my life pulling long, mysterious hairs out of my ass. Something about that string riding all up in my lady parts is just entirely unappealing. Then, there’s the dental floss that women have the balls to call straps on the side. Unless you’re one of those fit bitches and you have absolutely zero body fat (and if you are, fuck you), those skinny little strings are going to dig into your skin, and it will be nothing short of hell. I, for one, have a crippling burrito addiction that I’ve been battling for the greater part of my college career, so if I were to wear a thong, I would look like a tied pork tenderloin suffocating under the wrath of a tiny thousand rubber bands. Finally, you have the front, which is honestly just a tight, glorified loin cloth. I’m sorry, but a giant cameltoe all day does not a happy vagina make.

I maintain that it’s not what you wear, but how you wear it. I wear mostly body bikinis and hipsters, and you know what? I think I look fucking great. Sure, maybe they’re not the sexiest underwear ever, but cute panties don’t make you a sexy person. It’s all in the delivery. What matters is how you shake that ass on a bar dance floor or in a fraternity basement. And honestly, I have it on good authority that guys don’t really give a fuck what you’re rocking under your jeans. Most of the time they’re too ravenous to even appreciate what’s happening down south, and I’ve never known a guy to rip off your pants without pulling your underwear at the same time. I’d say I’m more of an Audrey than a Marilyn. I prefer to portray a “virgin in the streets, hooker in the sheets” look, and basic underwear does just fine in that regard.

Don’t get me wrong, I am certainly not above sexy underwear from time to time. I own some lacy little numbers in neon colors that just scream “I’m going through a dry spell.” I’m a huge fan of VS PINK’s No-Show Cheekster Panties for when I work out (or at least want to give off the illusion that I might partake in physical activity by wearing my tightest leggings) without showing panty lines. My plain Jane underwear can still show a little tush, sometimes even a lot of tush, because I lowkey have a great ass. I take pride in that shit.

So Victoria can keep her unbearable little secret. I simply have too much respect for my wonderful hiney to subject it to a dentist-grade flossing on the daily.

Image via Shutterstock

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