Underwear.
What’s that all about, eh? I’ve
never been a big fan and, for the last 25 years, haven’t worn any.
I haven’t been trying to make any
big feminist statement; I just worked out that, in a lifetime, if you work out
how long it takes you to buy it, fit, it, wash it, get it on and off, tell men
where the hooks are, unhook yourself when the men are incompetent . . .
Honestly, I reckon that in an average lifespan, I could save eight years.
Nicole Scherzinger made the headlines
today because she wasn’t wearing any underwear. No one has ever written about
my not doing that. Maybe it is because she is more beautiful (can’t see it,
myself - JOKE!); maybe it is because she has more to show (honestly, I am
gorgeous). Who knows.
But why is the lack of underwear
such a big deal?
I have never understood it. I came
from a family where my mother would have hired a parachute to stop anyone seeing
my ankle on the beach. I was lucky if I made it into the sea before dusk
because of the complicated towel arrangement she engineered to prevent anyone
seeing my four year old nipples.
One hot summer’s day after school, I
was way too hot, so took my dress off and walked home in my petticoat. Cars
stalled in horror. At home one evening, I came downstairs in just my vest and
no pants when my parents were entertaining my father’s boss for dinner. I was
just seven, but I swear that an escape from Alcatraz could not have set off
more alarms.
I stopped wearing bras around the
age of 20. I read a great deal of material about the zero incidences of breast
cancer in countries where they are not worn. Science and medicine are split on
the issue, but I stopped using chemical deodorants for the same reasons – I
just felt it odd to have anything preventing and/or constricting natural blood
flow in incredibly delicate areas. I am not going to play doctor and pretend
that I know it if is right or not; it just felt right for me. Research it for
yourselves.
I stopped wearing knickers because
they are, quite simply, pointless. If you are a man and you need to secure your
gear before setting off for work of a morning, fine; but come on, girls, why
are you wearing them? If guys like a lacy number on a night out, great (just
make sure they foot the bill, for the undies AND the restaurant); but why would
you wear them otherwise?
I wash all my clothes after wearing
them once, so it’s not as if knickers are protecting me from any lurking
horrors in my trousers or tights. I’m not incontinent, so don’t need them as a
drainage unit. Seriously, ladies – what is the point of knickers?
I confess to having spent a great
number of my rugby watching days getting my kit off for the lads. I am way too
old to be doing that now (give or take a pint of Stella or three) but, when I did said
kit-getting-off, at least the guys never had to wait long for the show while I
struggled with superfluous material (by which time, we would all have sobered
up and not fancied each other anyway).
Unless you are a man sporting a
picnic hamper. underwear is nothing more than a social nicety or a fashion
accessory; but it is utterly superfluous to requirements.
Especially when it's a drunken bloke
trying to get it off you.
Pants to underwear!
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