Why do I still wear bad underwear?
I accidentally wear my underwear inside out at least once a week. This reinforces the fact that I'm probably not quite ready to do things such as buy property, give advice to younger people or take out a bank loan because how can you really do any of these things when you're wearing inside-out/back-the-front underwear?
On that days that I have managed to place my underwear on my body correctly, I'd say that I'm only comfortable around 25% of the time because I'm usually forcing myself to wear uncomfortable underwear that rides up, sags down, cuts in or is constantly getting scew-iffed in my bottom area.
My question is why do I, as a fully grown woman, tolerate wearing bad underwear? That kind of stuff is COMPLETELY within my own control. I'll start the week off with a smile on my face as I walk to my dresser and take out my most comfortable pair of underwear - soft around the edges, slightly high-waisted with enough material to cover (and support) my entire booty. From there, the day is swell. I'll have a spring in my step, roses in my cheeks and a grin on my face that helps me to feel as though I could conquer the world.
Come Thursday, I'm probably down to my crappy undies. I'll wake up and groan, walk towards my dresser and will myself to pull on a pair of slicing knickers (don't even get my started on the days that I am forced to wear a g-string...anal floss just isn't for me). On those days, I'll huff and puff my way through the corridors at work, grimacing at strangers while my hand is firmly squished between my arse cheeks as I try to re-arrange myself. I just don't understand why I even own these undies, let along force myself to wear them. Surely I could just throw all of my shit undies out and replenish my sock drawer purely with loose fitting granny panties?
So last weekend, that's what I endeavoured to do. I threw my crappiest pair of underwear into the bin - it was the communal kitchen bin, which now that I think about it, that was kind of fucked up on my end - and then I braved the forces of Westfield's SALE WEEKEND just to buy myself some 'grown up' underpants. As I got into the Bonds store, I realised why I own so many pairs of crappy underwear, because they're so fucking expensive. I was going to have to take out a loan from the bank just to put a downpayment on a selection of Monday through till Sunday undies and I couldn't be taking anything from the bank with inside-out underwear on!
So I got three new pairs of black, sensible, comfortable knickers, yet I still sit here telling this tale whilst wearing pastel purple underwear that I'm pretty sure I brought from Woolworths. They do nothing to flatter my butt, nor my soul. I just feel sad and incompetent when I'm inside these pants and that's not a good way to feel.
So perhaps we should start a movement? The #fuckbadundies movement. Go into your drawer, chuck out anything that doesn't make you feel like you're sitting inside a cloud, coated with geese feathers and invest in a whole new set, because you're not just making an investment in yourself, your making an investment in your butt and she has always been there, right behind you, pushing you along in life and keeping you peachy. Treat the girl to somethin' special.
Kate Neilson is a list maker and a booty shaker. She likes tea her in bed, lime in her GnT and humour in her men. She is the creator of Twenty Something Humans and can be lurked @katiepotatierose.