THE LINE THAT DIVIDES US

Being a girl sometimes sucks. You have to worry about shit that men don't even think about, like make-up and tampons and getting pregnant. This is why men have more room in their brains to remember crap like who ran the winning touchdown in the 1979 Super bowl - because they aren't breaking out from oil-based foundation, bleeding like a stuck pig, or crying because they are three days late.

It is the way society, and mother nature, has made us. Girls are taught at an early age that being pretty and feminine is the most important trait they can possess. Then they are given crazy hormones that help them obsess about such things. It's really not fair. The fact we have to do that whole birthin' babies things on top of everything else ... well it just proves that if there is a God he is a man - a man who had a bad relationship with his mother and can't get a date, so he's taking it out on anyone with a vagina.

So here I am ... worried about stupid female stuff ... like panty lines. Yes, panty lines. Ask any woman on the planet and they'll say that one of their most prized possessions is that perfect pair of pants that makes their butt look firm and perky and tiny. We'll pay up to $20,000 for a pair of pants that does this, and take a second mortgage out on the house, if that's what it takes to own them. I've known women to take six-month sabbaticals from work to go on a quest for such pants. It's like the Holy Grail of Estrogen.

But my problem comes after you find those perfect pants. The last thing you want is that nice firm tiny butt to be marred by visible panty lines. The wrong pair of panties can kill even the best pair of pants - kinda like what Kryptonite does to Superman. Most women deal with this by wearing thong underwear. It's a simple fix, they say. And many of my girlfriends will argue like they are on Capital Hill that thongs are much more comfortable.

But I'm here to say that they are lying bitches.

It's a common practice. Women often lie to themselves and others in order to justify the vanity that has been instilled in them since they were given their first "pretty" doll or Barbie. Hell, I even lie to myself when I cram my feet into four-inch high "fuck-me" pumps, rationalizing that even though I feel like that poor bastard in the movie "Misery" after Kathy Bates took the sledgehammer to his 10 little piggies, it's really not that bad because my feet look hot. No matter that the grimace on my face and my noticeable limp detracts from my hot feet. Beauty is pain, right?

But I draw the line at flossing my butt. I'll hobble around on four-inch heels all day with my face screwed up in pain, but I refuse to hobble around with my hand up my butt trying to pry the cord out of my ass. Because while I can sit at my desk and take the pressure off my feet, there is NO relief for material being sucked up your anus. It's a vicious cycle of pulling and prying and sucking. It never stops.

Don't get me wrong ... thongs have their place. Specifically, they are useful in the effort to get laid. But in that case, you are usually only wearing them for a few minutes, and they haven't had enough time to really migrate.

Used in any kind of practical application, however, thong underwear is torturous. I know this from recent experience because I tried once again this week to give butt floss a try. It's just not working. I know that my coworkers have noticed me wriggling in my seat and walking like there are fire flies up my ass as I try to "covertly" adjust myself to be more comfortable. I think the whispers behind my back are worse than the noticeable panty lines I had before the butt floss. The trade off just isn't worth it.

And 5 p.m. can't come fast enough, when I speed back to my house, tear off my clothes, pry the floss out of my butt one last time and sob in relief as I pull on my most comfortable pair of briefs. Sweet, sweet joy!

It's definitely a man's world. They don't think of such things as whether their boxers or briefs create unsightly lines on their butt. They make fun of women's "granny panties" with no knowledge of what it's like to have a mesh strip embedded in their prostrate. It's easy to mock what you don't understand, isn't it boys?

And while men found ways to invent bombs and guns, and "the little purple pill," you'll notice that none of them have been able to invent a cute pair of women's briefs that don't make your ass look like a jigsaw puzzle.

So this is my pledge ... for every dollar spent on a perfect pair of pants, I'm putting another dollar in a start-up fund for "Project Pooter Protect" which I will donate to researchers embroiled in the effort to make panty-line free underwear that doesn't invade your ass. Join me ladies. We need to take matters in our own hands. Beauty does not have to mean pain any longer!

Comments

[Daisy]

I will join you! Any way we can find to lessen the pain it takes to look hot is a crusade that I will fight. March on Cookie, march on!

[Rhea]

'Floss' is the right term. Terrible.

[Nikki]

Just to add to the rant, thongs and such underwear have negative health affects. After sucking up the annoyance of a perma-wedgie to wear my rockin pants, I got a damn yeast infection. My doctor informed me that not only do thong type underwear increase a woman's chances of these it is especially bad for women who take the pill! So here I am, with two pairs of pants that are ok to wear with regular underwear and a closet full of pants that require a thong, there is no justice.

[Nikki]

Just to add to the rant, thongs and such underwear have negative health affects. After sucking up the annoyance of a perma-wedgie to wear my rockin pants, I got a damn yeast infection. My doctor informed me that not only do thong type underwear increase a woman's chances of these it is especially bad for women who take the pill! So here I am, with two pairs of pants that are ok to wear with regular underwear and a closet full of pants that require a thong, there is no justice.