Panties.

Occasionally I get into trouble when I call underpants "panties." I'm sure that it's probably disheartening for my male friends to hear me call their underroos "panties" after they worked so hard to pick the right pair for the situation, I mean no one wants to see panties sticking out the top of a nice pair of jeans or the white board shorts you wear swimming. I do it to upset you, and I will not apologize.

I'll tell you a secret, I find the word panties to be a bit of a gas. They refer to the silly underthings that girls under the age of 15 wear, they're bright and have bows and flowers or bizarre frillies. Its an attempt at cutesy where no one can see, which I have to say is all underwear, its self expression but the kind you keep close, like a dark secret that only the creepy ladies at the gym know.

I hate adult women's panties that are all flowers, bows and cutesy patterns, I'm not saying that this type of thing doesn't have a consumer base for, I'm just saying that I will not* buy them for myself. I want serious under my jeans, in three colors, two of which should be too close to flesh tone to be considered colors. I'm not talking just pink, beige and black cotton briefs, because that's no fun (plus my pants don't have a high enough rise to cover up something that stops just under my bra). But purple and green landscapes and semi-clever statements written on my ass are a total no-go.

But if you ever look at my socks, you'll know, I'm a bit of a kook.


*out of desperation I will break this rule.