Commando Tactics in the War Between Thongs and Panties

The comment thread from  this post, which was the direct result of  this one caused me to think about underwear.

These are my thoughts: it’s a war out there, people. We have the Thongs versus the Panties. The Thongs are younger, thinner, brighter, snarkier. The Panties are older, bigger around the middle, and set in their ways. They can be snarky too, but it’s sarcasm born from maturity and experience.

Thongs are looking to engage in procreation and the continuance of life. Panties have been there, done that. Panties are built for comfort, not for speed. Thongs use the old ruse of “panty lines” to cover up the fact that they secretly feel sexy wearing their stringed things. Panties don’t give a rat’s ass if anyone can see their lines. Panties see no enjoyment in the irritation of flossed nether regions.

As brought to light by one comment, there is another option. This would be the Commando Option.

For me, the Commando Option would be the option of last resort. This option should only be taken if all of your undergarments should be consumed in a fire, and you are in the middle of Mongolia or the Canadian outback and have no other options.

Let me tell you why. Because it can be very embarrassing, that’s why!

I did it once, as a Catholic school girl. It was on a dare. My so-called “friends” dared me in 7th grade, telling me that we would all do it on the same day. Unlike my friends, I was a rube. When I arrived at school, I was the only girl without panties. The other girls got a good laugh out of the situation. Thank God (and I mean that in the worst way) my little plaid and pleated skirt didn’t flip up in the brisk breezes that constantly blew where I was raised.

The second time I had the occasion to go commando, I was in my late teens. I had spent an entire night at a house party, dancing frenetically in some unknown boy’s room to Led Zeppelin and Mountain. When I’d first arrived, I had all of my clothes on, including my panties. About four a.m., a cute boy caught my eye and we headed to a couch in an enclosed porch downstairs, where I lost most of my clothing. Okay, let me amend that. I didn’t really lose my clothes.

About eight a.m., we heard the boy’s mother making eggs and sausages in the kitchen. I hurried to put my clothes back on, but in the heat of the moment of those passionate hours before, I couldn’t locate my panties. They were not in the couch or under the couch. They had mysteriously vamoosed!

Two weeks later, I was visiting this boy at his house and his mother handed me back my panties.

There’s a moral here. In the war between the thongs and panties, keep your panties on at all times. Those commando tactics are too sneaky for civilians.


17 Responses

  1. My goodness! What a well thought out and wonderful article!

    My very favourite paragraph is this one.

    For me, the Commando Option would be the option of last resort. This option should only be taken if all of your undergarments should be consumed in a fire, and you are in the middle of Mongolia or the Canadian outback and have no other options.

    I added some emphasis.

    While I’m here writing a message, I have a question for you. Do you want to go camping next summer?

  2. Where, BGG? In Banff? I think I could clear my calendar.

  3. I wish I could have been there to see the look on your face when the boy’s mom handed you back the panties. Had she laundered them?

  4. My panties were white, but my face was red. I believe she washed them, but she held them as though she had not. Oh, the shame…

  5. Banff would be fine. We’ll have to go to the back country though. I don’t want to just hang around in a tourist town.

    This summer it wasn’t so bad in town ’cause they dug up main street. Wait. No. It was terrible in town ’cause they dug up main street.

  6. Banff is a tourist town? I’m flabbergasted.

    How about Yellowknife? That’s way up there, right?

  7. In a panic situation I once put on my girlfriend’s panties in a rush to get dressed. Being a teenager is fraught with danger.

    Yellowknife a nice town. I would suggest Alert, the northern most populated settlement in the world. From there you could camp your way south.

  8. You must have one small butt, Stevo. I don’t think any of my boyfriends could have put on my panties.

  9. Oh. My. God. Are you still cringing, cause I am.

  10. I’ve had two girlfriends whose panties fit me, though I suppose one could ask why I bothered to find that out … one case of curiosity, and one dare.

    I believe that underpants separate us from our swinging primate cousins. I think they are the hallmark of civilization. And I think that thong underwear presents a sanitary hazard at best, and potential unwanted surgery at worst.

  11. I like Stevo’s suggestion. I do have one question though. Are there lots of forest fires up there? There was a fire last time I was in Banff so I thought it was a good idea to go there.

  12. I’m always amazed when I hear of men trying on women’s panties. It’s so wrong on so many levels.

  13. I put them on once in desperation (no clean laundry). I think mentioned it in my post “No Panties, No Bra” which is far and away my most popular post. I’m never doing that again. Totally uncomfortable. It’s one of those things one can learn in one try.

    Have you ever tried on a jock-strap? I think that learning not to do that might take zero tries.

  14. Zero tries here. I have no compulsion to even TRY it. No, no, no…

  15. Gosh, I just don’t know what side to take in this debate. I don’t like thongs. I don’t even own a thong. I have owned one or two in the past, but they have all disappeared, in only innocent ways, I promise you. I haven’t bothered to replace them because I wouldn’t want to wear them if I did have them. They were always the ones that I wore when I was out of clean underwear.

    So, you might think that I would take the panties side of the argument. Except…I HATE the word panties. I suppose other people might describe the intimate apparel that I wear as panties, I never will. I do not wear panties. I wear underwear. Or underpants. Or neither. But never panties!

    And I don’t think going commando is all that bad. I’ve done it on numerous occasions, although not while wearing a skirt (well, only once, because I was really sunburned…OK, that’s a different story. The only problem with going commando that I see is that you have to wash your pants more often. I usually wear jeans at least three times between washes, but without a barrier between me and the jeans, well, maybe it’s time for me to wrap this post up!

  16. Oh, my! That was too funny, Teaspoon. These are visuals that I can easily imagine!

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