Before today’s post begins please be sure to check out my newest sponsor, Stormsister Spatique, not only are they a really cool spatique with some awesome and unique products but they are a local storefront as well. I can’t tell you how cool it is to have an advertiser from a shop in my hometown. Don’t let that dissuade you from visiting there if you are located in any other part of the world, everything in the store is available online. Go on over, check out their stuff and tell them Jen sent you. If you would like to advertise on my little site please click on the Advertising tab on the top navigation menu. It’s cheap and supports my Diet Coke habit.
I hate that word. I have always hated it. I refuse to call my underwear panties. It seems like such a silly word. Men have boxers or briefs, both words sound rough and tough. Panties sound delicate. Which they are. You can’t wash real panties in the laundry and you certainly can’t put them in the dryer. If you do they come apart and you are left with a ball of very fine thread, in a pretty color but useless.
Panties are for women who prance around in nothing but… panties. Women who can’t change a tire and who screech when they see a mouse. Women who are willing to show their underwear to the world. It’s called underwear for a reason, it goes under something. When I think of the word panties I think of porn, as in “Oh, Buck, bite off my panties” or some other prase that most men will never hear spoken to them in real life. They won’t hear it because panties are expensive. The average lacy, has to be hand washed, and is incredibly uncomfortable pair of panties cost about $16. Granny underpants, which can be washed and dried thousands of times before the elastic lets go retails for about $8. for a pack of 6.
Most men do not want to bite off granny underpants even if the woman wearing them is really hot. Don’t get me wrong I like feminine, frilly or lacy underpants. I liked them more before I had children and now opt for simply colorful underwear but on occasion I pull out the black see-thru skivvies. I pull them out, but after trying them on and having to constantly pick at the wedgie I take them off and go for the practical yet comfortable cotton ones.
I can change a tire, I don’t screech when I see a mouse or a spider, and if I were ever intimate with a man named Buck, I’d smack him if he tried to bite off my pair of $16 underpants.