Chapter 2: My issues with…undergarments

Underwear is annoying. My solution? I don’t wear them. I haven’t worn underwear since I was 17 years old.

Admittedly, for someone who has gone commando for 25 years, I have amassed an entire drawer full of sexy lacy thongs, boy-shorts, low-rise bikinis, high-rise bikinis, and G-strings — all impulse purchases for special occasions, like going on dates. Or if I want to wear a skirt on a very windy day.

I actually can’t think of any other occasion where I’ve worn underwear.

Can anyone tell me why people wear underwear? Is there an explanation, aside from growing up wearing underwear, maybe labelled with the days of the week? I’d like to know what makes adult women feel the need to wear underwear every day for the rest of their lives.

You can try to convince me that wearing a certain brand, style, or cut of underwear will be comfortable and that I won’t notice or feel that I'm even wearing a pair, which may be well and true. But do you know what really makes me feel like I’m not wearing underwear? Not wearing underwear.

Unfortunately, I have reached an age where I have “target areas,” which is a problem…and which is why suddenly, I own shapewear. So, so much worse than regular underwear.

What can I say about shapewear overall? Shapewear is like putting on a condom over your entire body.

Apparently, while the lower half of me was living a happy, free existence for more than two decades, the rest of the world collectively started wearing shapewear.

I basically went from spending many of my teen years, all of my twenties and thirties, and half of my forties not wearing underwear to suddenly needing to wear shapewear whenever I have somewhere remotely classy to go.

Shapewear is supposed to suck in problem areas and give a slimmer silhouette, smooth bulges, and keep tummies, love handles, muffin tops, and other “target” or “problem areas” in place.

No one warned me that there actually is a wrong way to have a body, and that one day I would be wearing clothes that eliminate circulation and breathing.

Shopping for shapewear was quite a shock to my system (and bank account). I walked out with three items — which came with a lot of directions — and probably cost more than getting liposuction.

These are very strange times.

Women take undergarments very seriously nowadays. We choose our outfit before selecting what to wear underneath.

Gynecologists and fibre scientists (who study textile designs) give medical input on the best underwear for your health. My, how our priorities as humans continue to impress me.

And almost all customer reviews you’ll find on undergarments are along the lines of, “Very comfortable briefs. Like wearing nothing!” or “These are so comfortable, you’ll want to sleep in them.”

Which makes me genuinely curious, not only about why women wear underwear, but about women who make time to leave reviews about their underwear. Almost all these five-star panties start with how comfortable they are, which could only mean women have been walking around for years wearing feeling uncomfortable. For no reason.

You know what’s even more comfy than wearing raving-reviewed underwear? (You know where I’m getting at.) Not wearing underwear at all.

I admit I sometimes make snap judgements on other women by guessing what type of undergarment they’re wearing based on their personality or mood. Purely based on her sour nature, I’m pretty sure that an ex-colleague of mine wore ill-fitting thongs daily.

Or maybe she was wearing ill-fitting shapewear that cut off her circulation and ability to inhale oxygen. That’ll make anyone irritable.

I swear on some occasions, I had the urge to ask her, “What type of underwear did you put on this morning?”

There are many benefits to not wearing underwear. I’ve thought about this a lot. I've thought about this for years, ever since I decided that underwear just isn’t for me.

Not wearing underwear is so. Freaking. Freeing.

If you’re on the fence, I encourage you to at least try going commando — it’s life-altering, at any age…and one less thing to add to your morning routine or slinky outfit.

I'm sure by not having to decide what kind of underwear to put on each morning, I’ve saved at least an entire day and a half out of my life, time that I used to make more important decisions. Like whether I should have yogurt or banana for breakfast. Significant stuff.

Usually when I tell people that I don’t wear underwear, they react like my nine-year-old son does when I ask him if he plays with girls at school: "EWWW, GROSS!”

And okay, let’s get down to it. Sure, skipping wearing underwear saves time, but the best part? It gives your vagina a break.

Even medically speaking, I think my vagina is healthier than those who wear underwear. Not that I'm competing with your vagina, which I'm sure is happy enough! I hope it is.

I’ve had only two yeast infections in my entire life. I've never had a urinary tract infection either. Not once.

I’m not good with the female anatomy, but my labia and vulva would thank me, I think, for the years I’ve given them of unrestricted freedom and the ability to breathe. (If labia and vulva are the correct words.)

Also, I really have issues with panty lines, especially after spending hours dressing up for a wedding, cocktail party, or a networking event. I know it takes me about two full days, if I take into consideration getting my nails done and hair styled and my makeup done and shopping for an outfit (or picking one I haven’t already worn) and finding a purse to match and deciding on shoes and, of course, back-up shoes.

So why ruin two full days of pre-party prep only to ruin your fabulous outfit with panty lines? They are distracting.

With friends, and the occasional drunk woman at a bar, I can and do tell them that I can see their panty lines, and they should just take off their underwear. And typically, they do.

I consider this a public service, trying to rid the world of panty lines.

So, if you notice a woman tucking a pair of underwear into her purse or coat pocket, it may just be because someone was nice enough to tell them that they could see their panty lines, and they decided — rightly so — to whip them off.

I also see a lot of G-strings in yoga classes or at gyms. I just look at these women’s butts and think, “Well, how can wearing a thong while using an elliptical machine be comfortable? But your butt looks like two ripe peaches, so good for you!”

But back to classic panties: I know all about underwear designs that promise not to show any underwear lines. I own a few pairs. They do work! They work just as well as not wearing underwear. But are much more expensive.

I think, to be he honest, I also have a problem simply with the thought of buying underwear, which falls into the category of items that I’d rather not spend money on — a list that includes paper towels and gas for my car. Underwear falls into this category of necessary evils.

And now shapewear falls under this category, too.

On my first (and last) time at the shapewear store, I spent more time looking at the different designs than I did in class during my entire last year of University.

I blame the number of options, whether it's underwear or shapewear, on why many women are so indecisive. There are too many options. It seems like there is a style of undergarment for every goddamn occasion, including work clothes, cocktail dresses, Thanksgiving, and the First of July.

Undergarments have gotten so ambitious and, frankly, a whole lot weirder. You can even buy shapewear for your arms — your fucking arms — to make that turkey wobble arm fat look tight and fit. Basically, for every body part from the neck down, there is shapewear to give off some grand illusion.

“This one comes with straps you can attach and wear five different ways, and it will feel like it’s barely there!” the saleswomen told me on my first, and last, visit. Five different ways? Barely there? Shapewear should come with a manual.

If I weren’t terrified of cosmetic surgery, I probably could have gotten liposuction, and recovered, in the amount of time it took me to understand the different options designed for an instant “fix.”

Just for a sec, allow me to digress about modern dating in mid-life. (Let's just say I’m very happy that I’m in a relationship.)

I simply can’t imagine getting lucky on a first date while essentially feeling wrapped up like a mummy. Is it wrong to assume that many women my age aren’t getting lucky because they are wearing shapewear and are too embarrassed to undress?

I bought shapewear that goes up to my bra — the saleswoman told me I had to tuck it under my underwire. Seriously, how do women manage on dates? Eventually, you're going to need to show off your naked body.

This must be a lights-off situation. Or the old, “Let me just slip into something more comfortable” bit, when you excuse yourself and come out of the washroom twenty minutes later, only for your date to see indentation lines and a body that no longer looks taught. I mean, if you’re wearing shapewear from head-to-toe under your outfit, wouldn’t it come as a surprise for someone then to see you au naturel?

Or do you allow the man to unwrap you from your shapewear prison? Men can barely unhook bras. How in the world would they figure out how to take off shapewear?

The first time I wore shapewear was to a wedding. I didn't go to the washroom for eight hours. It was just easier to hold it in than to have to lift my dress, pull down my shapewear (tucked under my bra), all for a 30-second pee. I felt trapped!

And it’s dangerous. I can see someone pulling a muscle or throwing their back out while putting that shit back on.

I need to rewind for a quick minute. I was in my early 20s when the technology apocalypse was supposed to hit at midnight on January 1st, 2000, thanks to something called the Y2K bug, where the world believed that when the clock struck midnight, computers would stop working, there would be a massive blackout, and planes would fall out of the sky, kicking off the New Year in complete and utter chaos.

Amid this uncertainty was mass hysteria leading up to Y2K. People hoarded bottled water, toilet paper, non-perishable food, and lined up for hours to fill up gas tanks and take out cash for the impending apocalypse (sound familiar?).

If you’re middle-aged or older, you know where you were and what happened on New Year’s Eve 2000. If you’re way younger (spoiler alert!), nothing happened.

The Y2K scare was a joke. Our gullibility was embarrassing. When the world did not end, everyone took a collective sigh of relief.

The same sigh of relief you’d take if you just…took off…your undergarments.

You know what did happen in 2000, because the world didn't end? A little company called Spanx was born, causing mass hysteria for women with “problem” areas, like I’ve got now.

Since then, numerous celebrities and designers have come out with hundreds of shapewear lines/body-shaping undergarments/body solution wear/body prisons.

Shapewear, I’m embarrassed to admit, has made me lazy. Suddenly, as soon as I bought my first shapewear, I thought, "Meh. If the universe wanted me to eat only one piece of cake, shapewear wouldn't have been invented!”

And that’s why I’m tossing them. So I can stop eating four pieces of cake. I do not need shapewear as a wardrobe addition. I much prefer for my lady parts to be able to breathe.

But please, take my word for it: Give ditching your underwear a go for just ONE week, then come back and tell me if you didn’t feel more comfortable and liberated and relieved — like you did on January 1st, 2000.