The week before Independence Day, I stumbled upon some new panties which I wore with great excitement in my battle against panty lines. You see, I was never much concerned or aware of the dreaded panty line until Montana Man walked into my life.
That was his thing – the obsession with the thong making panty line disappear. After an extended period of time, I came to love the bum floss and now I cannot live without them.
So about three weeks ago in the deadly Texas heat, I was tra-la-la-ing along walking to and from my car and the below resulted:
(pants + new thong) * humidity * heat = a lovely little cut by my woo-hoo
Yes, a cut down there akin to a paper cut. Living in denial like I do, I proceeded to wear another new thong the next day.
(pants + new thong) * humidity * heat * small cut = a grave situation
I limped along for a few more days, dying a slow painful death any time I moved. Wanting to the claw the walls when nature took it course after a few litres of water. I was miserable – plain and simple.
Then the week of Independence Day I decided to take drastic measures. In order for this situation to come to a close dry air, air in general needed to circulate among the area. How best to test out this hypothesis? Channel my inner Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct and wear a skirt. Just a skirt. No panty line creating undies nor lineless thongs. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
It felt odd the first day, knowing I was sans panties. Then I grew to love it as woo-hoo began healing nicely and I enjoyed the freedom. Of course finding long skirts to make the situation conducive got more difficult as the week progressed but I made it.
Today, I am wearing a thong for the first time since the incident. Needless to say, I am weary, but so far, all is okay.
That was his thing – the obsession with the thong making panty line disappear. After an extended period of time, I came to love the bum floss and now I cannot live without them.
So about three weeks ago in the deadly Texas heat, I was tra-la-la-ing along walking to and from my car and the below resulted:
(pants + new thong) * humidity * heat = a lovely little cut by my woo-hoo
Yes, a cut down there akin to a paper cut. Living in denial like I do, I proceeded to wear another new thong the next day.
(pants + new thong) * humidity * heat * small cut = a grave situation
I limped along for a few more days, dying a slow painful death any time I moved. Wanting to the claw the walls when nature took it course after a few litres of water. I was miserable – plain and simple.
Then the week of Independence Day I decided to take drastic measures. In order for this situation to come to a close dry air, air in general needed to circulate among the area. How best to test out this hypothesis? Channel my inner Sharon Stone from Basic Instinct and wear a skirt. Just a skirt. No panty line creating undies nor lineless thongs. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
It felt odd the first day, knowing I was sans panties. Then I grew to love it as woo-hoo began healing nicely and I enjoyed the freedom. Of course finding long skirts to make the situation conducive got more difficult as the week progressed but I made it.
Today, I am wearing a thong for the first time since the incident. Needless to say, I am weary, but so far, all is okay.
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4 comments:
Darn woman, just watch out for your eyes....remember what happened recently with the woman and her Victoria Secrets thong. Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "you could take your eye out with that".
I hear ya with the stinging woo-hoo thing, though. I went through that recently after my vacation, not as the result of any rough treatment by a thong, but some VERY enthusiastic love-making by my husband. I swear he almost started a fire down there!!
Fi ~ I'd much prefer to have had your problem ;-)
It was a near-religious moment....I had visions of the burning bush!!
Hope you've healed well ;)
In the summer, I prefer to go sans undies with skirts.
Well, as long as it's not windy out.
Though I have never been cut down there by a thong, there have been other "issues" involving twisting and chafing that I would rather not think about.
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