vanilla ice

Long hailed as sexy underwear with more than a hint of bad girl, the thong as underwear has gained a lot of acceptance and popularity in the last five years. With the rise (pun intended) of low-rise j
eans, a hint of thong riding up became a fashion statement in the under thirty crowd. At least, one hopes it was only the under thirty crowd that adopted this trend.

Personally, I've been wearing a thong since I first discovered them about twenty years ago. Yes, that was roughly about the time the round wheel was invented, too. I loved wearing a thong or it's sister, the G-string, for many reasons. I liked feeling sexy and kind of bad. They didn't take up much room in the dresser drawer. They could fit in your purse without falling out when you were digging for gum or something. You didn't have to worry about panty line issues in knit pants or skirts or anything else. And I just plain liked the fact that I was wearing practically no fabric at all on my nether regions.

My topography has changed a lot in twenty years. I've had two children; I've cultivated cellulite; things are headed south (and I don't mean migrating birds or retiring seniors either); the sight of new wrinkles is so common it isn't even shocking. But I've never given up the thong. I moved to wide waistband, mostly cotton Hanes thong underwear that totally left out the hint of naughty, but the comfort of minimal coverage remained.

On my last visit to my doctor I must have mentioned in casual conversation that I wore thong underwear. Imagine my surprise when she practically forbade me from wearing the butt cheek baring panties! "I would like to tell all women", she said, "that wearing a thong has long-lasting health effects. It's bad for the entire genital and perineal area."

Who knew? I was devastated. I turned forty, needed a mammogram, bifocal glasses, anti-wrinkle products, a fiber supplement, and now granny panties?