Friday, February 10, 2006

Granny Vs Thong: the sequel

What’s rattling around the gumball machine today:

1. The cotton Granny pants vs Thong question, raised by Jess on “Indicative of Nothing.” I sit firmly on the fence regarding this issue – but not, please note, with any of the fence stuck annoyingly between the cheeks of my ass - and not as firmly as I might have once sat when white-girl-ass was in a less advanced stage.

I am appalled that manufacturers have such difficulty designing underwear that actually looks good and feels comfortable, although my requirements vary a bit from Jess’s. My drawers-drawer is full of practical, mostly-cotton ¾ briefs with French cut sides and enough material to cover my butt. Another section is composed of racy, butt-abrading, lace, torture devices I wear for an entire 15 minutes on…occasions. I make it a point not to turn around much when I wear those, because as Jess indicates in her rant on the subject, at a certain point, the average 40-50-something woman might feel that in a beauty contest, her ass might be voted Miss Surrendering to Gravity.

Then there are bras. Buying one, for me, means a four hour shopping trip pawing through racks of foam-padded, pre-shaped, floatation devices trying to find one lousy bra that doesn’t want to inflate my boobs and insulate them in case of the sudden occurrence of nuclear winter. And doesn’t look like medical apparatus.

So do I need the impractical stuff? Certainly. And my reasons are selfish. I like to see the Scorpio’s eyes light up when I wear lace. It’s not that he’d head for the door if I showed up in an old T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. It’s that the lace telegraphs intent. I thought about him. This is for him. And he knows it.

As long as we’re talking 30 minutes, this stuff is perfectly lovely and it’s fun. Like stiletto heels, and pointy toed shoes. I mean, hell, you don’t actually intend to walk in those, anymore than you intend to wash the floors or put in a day at work having your skin sanded by synthetic scratchy lace stuff. Not at my age.

A lovely Greek lady who ran the cafeteria where my friend Weedy worked, once pointed out to us, as we debated the calorie count of our lunches, “It no matter. You married!” This is a variation on JF’s theory that men don’t care if you are covered in sheep dip. I’ll admit I think there’s some truth there. But in my experience, it’s an excellent means to achieving the next stage on my personal sexual journey with a partner, which is: “I’d rather clean ashtrays, thanks.” (Note that I say this is my experience. I know it isn’t everyone’s.) I'm conducting experiments in not reaching that stage of the journey now.

The real issue here (world peace, justice and concern for the environment aside for a moment) – is that many women my age are still sexual beings. We'd like a choice. Some of us like sleazy lingerie and the fun of dress-up (even though, in an odd twist, we might be given to wearing cartoon slippers at the same time). So with so many boomers still lingering around, why haven’t manufacturers thought about producing something fabulous that suits an actual female body over the age of 35. I want Jess to have her beloved style #2342s if she wants them, too. (And by the way, L’Oreal, I haven’t forgotten about you taking my favorite orange lipstick off the market, you wankers!) Wake up, manufacturers. We have jobs! We have disposable income. But Brittany is not the image we're looking for.

I urge you to catch Jess’s entry – “I’ve been to Bali and it wasn’t pretty.” It’s nervy, funny, and dead on the money. She’s not taking any prisoners. Hat’s (or thongs) off, Jess! Link to the entry at the top.

5 comments:

Jess D'Zerts said...

You're right, of course, about sending a message of intent. Fully half of the spandex dozen are black, and I did choose those to wear when 'certain opportunities' might arise, and the ex-boyfriend actually did take even that quite personally.

More importantly, you're right about this: why haven’t manufacturers thought about producing something fabulous that suits an actual female body over the age of 35? An excellent point--and yes, I'd be happy to drop a dime for some special-purpose lingerie that actually made me feel sexy as opposed to ridiculous.

Still, for no-boyfriend everyday wear, I want my 2342s, dammit!!

Teri said...

I've always felt ridiculous in lingerie. I have collected a few fun pieces that haven't seen the light of day in half a decade.

I happen to LOATHE underwear shopping, because even a pair that looks like it'll work mght be a total throw-away failure. It's not like you can try them on...

I am a fan of cotton (with a little spandex) good old fashioned hipsters.

LJ said...

We should band together and march on Bali and Hanes.
I know Teri. I'm not fond of it either. And when I find a brand I like, they immediately stop making it. It's spooky.
And I often do try them on. My argument is that you are allowed to try bathing suits on over your current underwear - so what's the difference?

yottabite said...

ah you rock.
I'll keep lurking and laughing, lurking and laughing.

Keep it up!

Mary said...

I'm in the same age group and I agree!
Nice to find your blog and thanks for your visit .....