When I posted these two little opinion-essay-rants years ago, which as we know is eons in the virtual world, they drew quite their share of ire from those I am assuming were repeat offenders concerning the subject matter. I shared them here last year when I first began my blog – I think I had close to 5 followers then, so no dissenting arguments were presented – I am resurrecting and reworking them today for two reasons, 1) I have a few more than 5 followers now,* thank you * and 2) I’ve seen far too much ass and undies flashing me at Walmart recently.
I’m beginning to think those rollback prices aren’t worth the trauma I endure there. Before you suggest an alternative to my penny-pinching shopping endeavors, let me just say – this problem is pervasive, it’s everywhere – there is no escaping it.
I am not one of those people who find pleasure in the fumbles and foibles of others. I don’t click on People of Walmart links, I don’t find humor in the public humiliation of others. At all. I do however see these thing in real, actual, living color on a regular basis, and while these sightings may leave an impression * visions seared into my mind for all eternity *, I don’t feel the need to draw attention to the parties involved. Do I sometimes indulge in an internal giggle? A silent WTF or invisible facepalm? Sometimes. I am, after all, a flawed human myself. Of course, I DO look in the mirror periodically to be certain I am not showing the world parts of me it should not be unwittingly subjected to.
With that said . . .
– PLUMBER’S CRACK EPIDEMIC –
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a serious plumbers crack epidemic. We do, and it has nothing to do with the brave, (for real, these people are brave) hard-working folks who keep our pipes and our potties in working order.
I am almost afraid to broach this topic without offending at least a few, so if you’re reading this and whatever undies you have chosen are showing, or worse yet, what your undies should be covering is uncovered, I apologize.
Wait. I take that back. I don’t apologize. In fact, I would kind of like to receive an apology from every man or woman who has sat in front of me or bent down in a pair of those too cool, too low, too small jeans, forcing me to see, well . . . the thing mostly plumbers have been accused of showing. I’ll say it, their crack. Their butt-crack. No one wants to see it. At least, I don’t.
Men, there will be an entirely separate entry at a later point in time to address my grievances in regard to the aforementioned crack cleavage and other wardrobe offenses you may be or have been guilty of committing. Please, continue reading, but by no means should you think you are off the hook.
Now there are probably four women on the face of the earth who truly look good in most of the jeans your average Jane squeezes and squishes and shoves herself into. It is not attractive to let your excess baggage flop over the top of your jeans. It’s not. Let’s face it, most of us have some, but seriously, we don’t need to let everyone see it. It’s unattractive and it just has to be uncomfortable.
I used to wear tight jeans, I looked damn good in them too, that was before my beautiful children stretched and pulled and jellified my middle region. Now I wear comfy jeans, s-t-r-e-t-c-h-y jeans, or my favorites, pajamas. I’m not a large person, but I don’t expect to look good in the same super skinny, low-rise, hip hugging, jeans my daughter can wear.
My philosophy is this, just because they make it in your size doesn’t mean you have to wear it. In fact . . . please don’t. Don’t get me wrong, women of every shape and size should be accepting and unashamed of their bodies. They should wear fashionable clothes, ones that make them look and feel good, so shame on clothing manufacturers for not making enough of them.
One of the most attractive women I know is a plus size beauty. She is gorgeous, model gorgeous. She also dresses beautifully. She buys jeans that accentuate all the right curves, they make her look slimmer because they fit her. She walks with confidence without tugging and pulling on her clothes with each step she takes. Larger women who buy larger versions of the trendy new jeans hot off the rack are not doing themselves any favors. Those are her words, by the way.
That being said, I’ll get back to the size fives among us. The size threes, sixes, eights, tens, twelves and twenties too. No matter what size you are, if the jeans don’t fit right, don’t buy them.
I’ve seen thin, young girls wearing unflattering jeans, showing off all the wrong parts. There are so many styles and brands to choose from, don’t just buy the wrong ones because So and So Suzy down the street has a pair. Be selective, take your time. Look in the mirror. Bringing a pocket mirror to the mall is a great idea by the way, you can see what your bum looks like before you buy. The bum has got to look good.
I know it’s a difficult thing to do, buying jeans. I try to avoid it. I have four different brands of jeans, four different sizes ranging from size four to size eight, they all fit the same. Men can go to the store, pick up a 32/34 and guess what? They are actually a 32/34. Why can’t women’s clothing manufacturer’s do the same? When I was younger a three was a three. A twelve was a twelve. It’s all so frustrating now.
Everyone should own jeans. NOT everyone should have the same kind though. Let’s give the plumbers crack back to the plumbers, ladies. Stop the madness.
Check out this link for a few tips on finding the perfect jeans for your perfect body.
Now that you’ve read my thoughts concerning the proper fitting of jeans, you’ll undoubtedly understand why I am sharing this next bit, this one and that one were written with the same angst and both, not so strangely, after visiting a Walmart. Seriously, I need to stop shopping and simply have things posted to me.
What’s Going On Under There?
There are just some things I cannot contain, I shall try to be brief. You don’t know it yet, but that was funny, considering the topic at hand. Let me preface this by saying, this is part personal opinion and part plea, I have seen things I never wanted to see and sincerely wish to never see again.
I’m talking about what lies beneath. Skivvies, bloomers, drawers, undergarments, unmentionables, panties, underoos, shorts, underwear, thongs, boxers, briefs, underpants, tighty whiteys, g-stings, undies, lingerie . . . whatever you choose to call them, I’m talking about them.
It seems to me that since the creation of undergarments, people have been tugging, fighting, and fussing to keep them from crawling and creeping up and into places they weren’t meant to go and leaving unsightly bulges and bumps and lines that showed everyone their precise location on your derriere. The designing powers that be attempted to solve the problem by simply removing the ever shifting, bum covering material and replacing it with with less, not more, and introduced undies on a string, the evolution of underwear was underway, the thong came into being, or is it g-string? And why is it called a g-string? Never mind, I don’t really need to know.
When I was a kid, thongs were obnoxious pieces of ill fitted, foamy rubber with a torturous strip of plastic between your toes to hold them in place. Now, we call them flip-flops, something I learned when reminding my daughter to pack her thongs for sixth grade camp many years ago. Now I know.
I don’t understand them, thongs, not flip-flops. The whole thing is kind of eww to me. I hate underwear, in part because they often need adjusting to keep them from lodging . . . uh, between . . . I don’t want anything going there, but with the thong, it goes there. On purpose. So anyway, I have issues with the thong, but mostly with a certain population of thong wearers. I cannot avoid being thong flashed wherever I go, I’ve been told it’s a fashion statement for some. Call me unfashionable, but aren’t undergarments meant to go under garments?
I totally understand that panty lines are not attractive, I do, but I can’t be alone in thinking is it even more unattractive to see that telltale, little triangle of a panty line showing the world your underwear are mostly made of floss. Wearing a thong under thin, tight garments isn’t doing most wearers any favors. Now before you tell me it’s not a panty line, let me be clear, if it is considered a panty and I see an outline of it, it’s a panty line.
There is something far worse though. I don’t quite know how to describe it, or if I even should for that matter, but I’m going to because I must. Let’s call it, the thong-muffin-roll-crease-effect. This is when there is a muffin roll present and a tight thong has been stretched across it, causing the surrounding tissue to appear as though it is being sliced for serving. Ladies, and I can’t believe I have to say this, and gentlemen, this is not attractive.
If you must wear a thong, you should at least follow a few guidelines. I’ve compiled a short list.
- Please keep it under your clothing.
- Pink and black polka dots show through white pants.
- Buy the right size.
- Secure the, I’m not certain what to call it, stringy part in it’s proper place.
I’m not asking for much, really. Honestly, the same rules apply to all other forms of underclothes, with the exception of the stringy thing placement.
This may be borderline TMI, but give me some soft, boring, stretchy boy cut shorts or nothing at all. Who needs that much aggravation and discomfort, really? Some say there’s no need. Maybe some women find thongs comfortable, they are probably the same women who say their spiked heels are therapeutic. Maybe I am actually starting to show my age. Am I just a big ole’ panty in a world of itty bitty thongs? Am I alone? Well, I may be alone, but I’m not tuggin’ at nothin’.
Crystal R. Cook