Friday, January 16, 2009

I'm Too Sexy for This Thong, Too Sexy for This Thong...

A 21st century Rainman, I went to Target last night to buy underwear, when I stumbled across this:

“It’s a thong,” you say. “Why ever did you take a picture of it lying on the floor of the Target?” Well, because in my mind it warranted a picture.

Underwear has purpose – it keeps your genitals covered, keeps them toasty in the winter. I’ve never been a fan of thongs myself (more on that later), but I understand that they too fill a much-needed purpose – eliminating visible pantylines (or perpetuating the skank – six in one, half dozen in the other). I have friends who swear to me that thongs are way more comfortable for them to wear than bikini, low-rise, or even boyshort panties. I don’t necessarily believe them, but fine.

This underwear – this thong – appears to have no purpose. It’s like sending a foster kid to go live with a cardboard cutout. It gives the allusion of underwear, but no way in hell it actually functions as more than a bush shade, and something tells me that the gal who buys this thong isn’t gonna be sporting much bush anyhow (if she was, she could grow a rat-tail in the thing, floss it up through her butt crack and provide herself more coverage than this).

Let’s analyze this undergarment – a lot of elastic and less than a 6” square of cheap, cute fabric. Seriously, I’ve seen thongs that come with the adult-video-store dress-up outfits that have more beef than this thing. This is a cheap piece of shit. No wonder it’s marked down to 34 cents. I can only imaging the sweat-shop worker that was made to sew the tiny stitches that hold the elastic together. Eyes squinting, fingers cramped, asking her neighbor at the next sewing machine over why they’re making so many eye patches. Obviously, her neighbor tells her that those new pirates off Somalia are trendy fuckers and eye patches are really “in” right now. Shutter to think of those photos to be posted on

Speaking of bad mental images, this thong is my size. I’ll say it again: this thong is my size. I actually came across it, because I was only looking for XL labels, usually the first to go. When I picked it up, I was initially confused, and then someone walked down the aisle behind me and I threw it down as if I were standing there holding a 14” rubber salami in one hand and a 32-ounce bottle of lube in the other… in Target! Seriously, I was embarrassed and afraid the person walking behind me would see me holding it, look at my ass, look back at the thong, and then ask me if I just had eye surgery. I can imagine what my ass would look like in that thong, yet I bet you that no matter how unflattering a picture I am able to conjure up in my mind’s eye, it would in reality look worse in ways I cannot yet conceive if I were to actually put it on.

I’ve considered thongs before – once in 87 and again briefly that once in 92. All kidding aside, I’ve bought thongs before, and I’ve never met one I didn’t want to tell to “kiss my ass” that actually already was. As if the string up my ass isn’t uncomfortable enough, the no-longer-visible panty line is replaced with the much-more horrifying elastic waistline that cuts into my child-bearing hips. I instantly become sectioned off like the Michelin Man, a dividing line that says, “You can’t tell what’s going on under here, but I appear to be cut in two.”

I may not be sexy, fixing my hair in the morning in my boyshorts and “full coverage” brassiere (actually, I am), but at least I don’t feel that I need to wear next-to-nothing in order to be sexy like all the girls I knew in high school who wore thongs. Sexy’s who you are. It’s what and how you think of yourself. And god only knows that if I were the kind of girl who were fixing her hair each morning in that shoddy Target thong, I’d secretly be thinking “I wish I had a sandwich.” Bitch, I got more than a sandwich – after putting down that thong I bought a motherfucking sandwich maker! And I made a grilled cheese with it when I got home. And I woke up this morning, put on my boyshorts, weighed my 177-lb self, looked in the mirror, and thought, “Damn, girl, you’re looking good!”

Target thong, my ass…


Erica Ortiz said...

AMEN sister!

Ivanna Shoverova said...

Argh, those things are so uncomfortable, I bought one once, and I hated it. The stringy things (I believe these 'hold it up') dug into the flesh of my hips in very unappealing ways.

Horrible things.

... that guy said...

Yeah, I tried a thong once, it's where I earned the nickname "Bacon Cupcakes"; or, maybe I was in college and just needed the money.

Either way I had to giggle a little when I looked up and the adsense add on your blog said "Crotchless Thongs, Bargain Prices. Smart Deals. Save on Crotchless Thongs!"

Anonymous said...

Can I have a grilled cheese?

ATP said...

PMSL how timely ... I read this right after I'd been out to Big W and bought myself a new sports bra AND some zebra print knickers for derby lol

Nicole said...

I can't go without my thongs with the clothes I wear or else im left with the worst VPL ever.

From my first thong
up until now I have always adored thongs not just from preventing VLP but the right pair can be very comfortable.

The trick is to find one with thin soft cotton with a bit of material at the back. I'm not really one to wear g-strings like the one in the photo.