The Underwear Theory

It comes down to the undies.

Simple. There's really only two kinds of people in the world - those that would rather let it all out and those that would rather hold it all in. Translated to undergarments, it comes down to the old boxers and briefs question for men, and the thong-to-full-panty continuum for women.

See, I believe half the population is hoping that their parts will never be released to swing freely,or be even vaguely suggested in outline. They cringe at the sight of nipples and penile bulges, freeze at a breast that bounces too freely, worry that skin will show in the wrong place - which could be anyplace not associated with the head, neck or lower-half of the extremities.

The other half of humanity is just dying for garments that let it all hang out: oh yeah, the slinkiest thong that's just an excuse for exposure, the lowest cut briefs, the silk boxers that are next to nothing, or, speaking of nothing, the Nothing. You know, the legions of secret commandoes that pay no attention to mother's admonition to 'always wear clean' and actually wear nothing under at all. Shocking.

Myself, I'm a bit schizophrenic when it come to underwear, sometimes daring the bare, sometimes holding it in. But even though I may embrace full-bottomed hip huggers for a day or two, I never, ever, ever make it to briefs. At least anymore. Briefs remind me of my mother's drawer full of white nylon panties, delicate size sixes carefully folded into perfect silky puffs. She wore them - the full cheek covering, belly-button concealing design - under a full panty-girdle and support pantyhose. I never saw my mother without them: never a glimpse coming out of the shower or getting dressed, or even getting a swimsuit on. Pubic hair was a rumor, - until I was confronted with all the early maturing girls in the locker room, and much later with my own sprountings in all their dark Italian glory. I was horrified.

Was I a failure? Had I done something wrong to deserve this transformation? Was god punishing me with less-than-straight hips and this set of weeds? How would I ever change in public again? So,I succumbed to the parental full-panty party line immediately, searching out the right amount of material to completely cover my posterior and nether regions. (I was convinced my butt would look smaller with the right underwear.)

Embarrassment makes you become a 'keep it all in'. Terror keeps you there.

But once the cloud of pubescent shame passed, I started noticing the less tight types - the braless wonders, the freewheeling skin revealers, the slighty exposed tempters. Something was going on... Compared to my parents - with their raised eyebrows and clucks and disapproval of bodily motion - they were heathen sexual upstarts, embracing chaos and confusion. They had a lot more fun. And I started thinking, "maybe my contained feeling, the dampened perspective of a nylon panty prison, the metaphorical manifestation of "keeping it together" did not have to be." I too could dare.

So it began. Pink cotton daisy hip-huggers under low-waisted jeans. Low slung black silk under Gloria Vanderbilt black disco spandex. Sheer yellow stretch under hotpants - with no fear of exposure. Talk about liberation from the ground up.

Yep, I threw away the briefs and landed at hiphuggers - and later on discovered the joys of thong. I've never looked back. Except when it's really cold or I'm feeling fat.

Maybe it's nothing really in the grand scheme of things. I'm sure great people come from both camps....conservers and creators. Both types come in all shapes, sizes, professions, religions - and politics. It's not a fair guess to say that conservatives are tighties and liberals loosies. I know plenty a randy republicans that spout conservative values but wear bare. And there are plenty of uptight and righteous democrats. But at least in this society, checking for the outline or the bounce, or lack thereof can at least give you an indication of what kind of encounter you're about to have. Especially on weekends.

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