On the years when I am good Santa (cleverly disguised as my mother) brings me new underwear. If, like this past year, I’m super good and Santa is able to make the four hour journey to the mall I get a box filled with new extreme low rise panties from Victoria’s Secret because these are the only underwear on the planet that are cute and fun and comfy and do not stick out over the top of my pants most of which sit casually on my hips because the world does not make pants that fit both my hips and my waist at the same time. When I opened this gift a couple of weeks ago I pulled out a bevy of boyshorts in blue and pink and gray and one pair in red tartan with “take my photo” scrawled in cursive across the butt. Always a fan of ass graffiti I was thrilled that Mama Clause had finally seen the message baring potential of my rear end. Sadly when I offered kudos for this huge fashion leap she demurred, claiming that Papa Clause had rushed her out of the store and had she seen that “ridiculous” message there is no way she’d have ever purchased the underwear. I think it’s sad that mom has yet to embrace her inner J-Lo.
The cruel trick of owning cute underwear is that unlike the smart gray sweater I also got for Christmas or the sexy gold shoes I bought in September or the awesome “Math: Get Sum!” button that my friend Joe gave me last spring I rarely get to show it off due to a distinct lack of pantsless opportunities in my life. This is especially disappointing when the panties in question use my behind as a billboard. A billboard with no one to read it is a sad and lonely piece of marketing. But luckily, on Saturday my personal mobile messaging system was given an opportunity to communicate with the outside world thanks to Improv Everywhere’s No Pants 2K8.
No Pants Day has been taking place on the
The plan was for us to break into groups of 25 or so and spread out over the train cars. Once we boarded the subway people would begin taking off their pants in even smaller groups (starting with one guy at the first stop), get off the subway and wait for the next train. My nerves kicked in as soon as the doors closed on the stop before we were set to bare our asses especially since Kajal and I were the first girls in our car to stand and drop trow. No Pants day was a bit of a sausage fest and Kajal and I had speculated while waiting to board the train that this was because boxers were much less revealing than women’s panties but as I sat on the subway with a depantsed man standing in front of me I quickly realized that going pantsless with penis was much more dangerous than standing around in my underwear. I am thankful to not have to worry about any of my bits falling out. I couldn’t chicken out now so off the pants came and frankly, once you get them off, the rest is easy.
As Kajal and I waited on the platform for the next train she pulled out her lotion and began applying it to her eczema. I cannot articulate how hot it is to see a pantsless pregnant lady applying cream to her dry skin. I had to fight the men off in order to preserve her marriage. The pooper and his daddy better thank me for keeping their family intact.
A couple of observations on the state of underwear in
- There were a number of girls trying to rock boxers which was obviously some serious cheating and also not anywhere near as cute as my boyshorts and knee highs combo. Knee highs were surprisingly popular for the women in attendance -- one assumes that, like me, the other girls still like to save their ankles for their husband’s eyes only. Who says we live in an amoral society?
- If the boxer clad men I spied are any indication of status quo then the boys I date have super good taste in underwear. Today I saw way too many cartoon character themed pairs of boxers. SpongeBob on your junk or Oscar the Grouch on your ass is not hot. I also saw an entire group of boys who had chosen to pull their boxers up into an impromptu thong-like contraption that frankly may have burnt my eyes out of my skull.
It is somewhat shocking how boring sitting on the subway in your underwear can be, especially when there is little to no reaction to your half naked booty. I know New Yorkers are jaded and nonplused but I think I witnessed a new plane of blasé. After 2 stops of pantless mass transit a father and his 10 year old son boarded the train which caused me to internally start freaking out about the possibility that the father might be seriously upset that his child was seeing me in all my naked thighed glory. I need not have worried. The ten year old didn’t even comment on the almost nudity around him! I assure you that if, at 10, I had so much as glimpsed panties in public I would still be talking about it today. But I grew up in the backwoods where people still pretend clothing is not in any way removable.
Our sojourn took us via the 6 train from City Hall up to