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Location: Work.
Remembering: Falling asleep in a church last Friday night.
Listening: "Leave The Biker" ~ Fountains Of Wayne.

Prepare yourself for more information than you need or want.

Yesterday, I stopped by a department store during my lunch hour to get athletic socks for jogging (I wanted the short ones with the little pom-poms on the back, but alas, they weren't in stock) and determined to do something that I very rarely do--buy myself new underwear.

While I've never been one for the whole "must have matching underwear" syndrome that has claimed many of my female friends and relatives (who mark the Victoria's Secret Annual Sale on their calendars), I do value cool underwear and recently bought a set for myself for the first time in about six years (black lace with a jaunty little bow on the back which confounded Peter). However, this trip was more
about function than fashion and I found myself in a quandry: to thong or not to thong?

Please insert your own Sisqo lyrics here because I can't bring myself to...

I've been wearing thongs for about seven years--ever since I was heavily mocked by a friend of mine for wearing white cotton bikinis
("Wow. I think my grandmother owns a pair of those.")--and they've worked very well. They're comfy (despite the appearance to the contrary), convenient (no lines) and usually get high approval ratings. Plus, they're one of the few things on the planet that honestly horrify my friend Shunit (who used to drag me underwear shopping with her and who will wear a postage stamp-sized bikini in public, but never without full bottoms)--and that fact alone would be worth any drawbacks suffered on my part. But I digress...basically, thongs have been a thumbs up all around for quite a while now. However, lately I've been reminded of some of the drawbacks of wearing them (I won't elaborate because I really do care--you might not believe me, but I do) and
that I've been allergic off and on to that silky nylon fabric since I was about three.

To make a long and seemingly pointless story shorter: I bought normal underwear. Hanes white cotton low-cut bikinis, to be precise. And it's really, really weird wearing them. I find myself checking mirrors often to determine if they're obvious. They feel obvious. I feel as if somehow I am announcing to the world "I'M WEARING UNDERWEAR!"--which, in retrospect, I suppose everyone assumes, but I still feel like I'm flaunting the fact. Thongs, for all of their scandalous reputation, are actually very discreet creatures--they don't really announce their presence through close-fitting slacks or by bunching in inopportune places. They're reserved. They blend into the wallpaper at the party. They don't really speak unless spoken to--granted, they then shout to high heaven, but that's not the point here. Thongs are secretive. Briefs are often public property.

So I actually feel more self-conscious about my underwear now that I'm wearing bikinis. I have to laugh at the irony.

I wonder if this is how, say, porn stars feel in sweaters--very conspicuously clothed.