Would You Wear A Thong?
NO, Thong-Wearers Must Be Masochists
Pascale Day, Features Writer
I’m just going to say it – people who like wearing thongs are straight-up masochists. Thongs are the 21st century’s answer to a medieval torture device. I cannot fathom why people would want to swap comfy pants that caress your bum cheeks and hold your important parts in a papoose made of cotton, for a teeny tiny piece of string that gets right down there in the trenches and makes your life a misery.
Let’s start with the obvious: thongs are unhygienic. Two important parts of your anatomy are down there, and are separate for a good reason. East is east, west is west, and never the twain shall meet. But your thong string acts as connector, carrying germs from your back door straight to your front door. So if you’re a thong fan then girl, you better be getting that cran-juice on the regs, because your undies are probably going to give you a UTI – researchers at Albert Einstein College of Medicine claim that E coli can potentially find its way onto your thong string, as it’s the most common bacteria found in your colon, and E coli is responsible for 93% of UTIs. Not so sexy now, are they Sisqo?
Secondly, thongs are tacky; the Comic Sans of the fashion world. I would rather wear nothing on a windy day than a thong. That’s right: I would rather feel a gust of wind blustering through my naked undercarriage as my skirt blows up, exposing my nether regions to everyone around me, than have people see that little triangle of shame poking out the top of my arse crack and think with disappointment, “Oh, she’s a thong girl”. No thank you.
But I know there are those who wear them from practical reasons – to avoid visible panty lines under gym leggings or with particularly slinky dresses, for example. Personally, if I’m wearing something that has heavy VPL potential, I’m far more likely to go for something bigger than something smaller. I’m a big fan of the all-over body spanx. You know the ones – very Mrs Doubtfire. My own pair start at the knees and stop right under my bra. And yes, they are extremely hard to get on – I tried to squeeze myself into what is essentially a flesh-colour prison for your thighs and stomach for a wedding last month, squatting down and heaving up in the particular rhythm that is necessary to get them on, and my boyfriend told me it was “painful to watch”. But hey, the dress looked great, there were no seam lines and also no eternal wedgie to deal with (although I did miss the crucial ‘confetti shot’ photo because I spent so long in the toilet trying to pull my gargantuan M&S nightmare back up after a wee – it is nothing short of miraculous how something so big can also be so small).
No one can convince me that thongs are cool – not even Queen of the Bottoms, Kim Kardashian, or any of the Love Island ladies. Because the Do Bits Society is all fun and games until you no ‘bits’ can be ‘done’ because you’re being plagued by a phantom wee, am I right?
YES, You Just Need To Find ‘The One’
Rosy Cherrington, Features Editor
I'm not Sharon Stone, I didn't forget to, and I'm not whispering seductively to you across a restaurant table while softly grazing your leg with my stocking-clad foot (does anyone actually do this?) – but I haven’t got any knickers on.
Sorry, not sorry, but I simply despise wearing them. This is by no means to say I dislike lingerie as a concept, in fact, quite the opposite. As someone who was first in line for the V&A's 'Undressed' exhibition, has draws bursting with Agent Provocateur and knows all the Victoria's Secret Angels by name, it's safe to say I appreciate the beauty of a good matching set. But spending an entire day encased in one is a very different story.
For the most part here, I'm talking about briefs. If I were blessed with gravity-defying breasts, trust me, I'd be ditching the bras too – but for comfort, they're a necessity. As for knickers, however, those genital-swathing devils can do one. If you’ve never gone commando, I urge you to try it – it’s blissfully comfortable, freeing even.
People often seem bamboozled when I tell them, but really, it’s very simple – tights with built-in gussets. Thanks to the British weather, and my penchant for a mini skirt, tights are a year-round staple in my wardrobe, and – with a large enough reserve – they eliminate the need for any knickers. Simply wear once and wash them, Bob’s your uncle. However, there are exceptions to the rule – very short or floaty warm-weather dresses likely to be blown up by a freak gust of wind (I'm not an exhibitionist), trousers and jeans (plain uncomfortable without pants), when I’m on my period (self-explanatory) – and that’s where thongs come in.
The lack of VPL is a major factor, but the main reason I favour thongs is because they’re far more comfortable. Trust me, I've tried every type of briefs around, from cheekinis to high-waisted to hip-huggers, and they all have their downfalls. But while I’ve yet to find a standard pair of briefs that don’t bunch up (‘hungry bum’ syndrome is a legitimate thing, people) thongs are designed to give you a perma-wedgie. The less fabric there, the less horrendously uncomfortable you'll be all day.
I do need to caveat this by stressing: all thongs are not created equal. If like Pascale, you’re firmly thong-averse, I urge you to give my favourite style a try. The key is to go for pairs with elasticated lace around the hips, which sits flat against your body (seriously flattering), ensure the gusset is made from breathable cotton (your lady parts will thank you) and make sure they're not too tight (if it means ordering a size up, it's worth it). The Lace-Waist Thong Panty by Victoria's Secret ticks all the boxes – soft, light stretch-cotton fabric, a low-rise lace waistband, a whole range of colourways to choose from, machine washable (two words high-end lingerie addicts will feel blessed to hear)... I have a whole drawer-full, and I love them.
In the end, it all boils down to personal preference – whatever's comfiest, works. So don't assume every 'thong girl' will be queueing up for Love Island auditions next year, or that women going commando are doing so as an act of titilation, perhaps they just really, really don't want to spend the next 12 to 14 hours with a big pair of pants betwixt their butt cheeks.
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