Americans spend about $575 million on thong underwear per year, according to Glamour magazine. To me that sounds like 130 million preventable wedgies.
I’ve never understood thong underwear. Why pay for a tiny strip of cloth that pretty much guarantees inner-butt annoyance? Isn’t it easier to simply go without? If we fear some sort of vaginal spillage, a panty liner makes more sense to me—with or without underwear. And as most women know, there are plenty of cute, comfortable panties that don’t show through form-fitted clothes. I know what some of you are thinking: They’re sexy! But are they? I can’t help but wonder if the porn and fashion industries have simply taught us to associate them with sex. Unless they’re made of non-messy chocolate and worn temporarily (IYKWIM!), I’m not interested.
If you dislike thongs, you may presume, as I did, that a guy invented them—and you’d be right. But not for the reason you’re likely thinking.
Thongs were invented in the 1930s because former New York mayor Fiorello LaGuardia felt that the city’s nude dancers were exposing too much skin at the World’s Fair. In other words, they were created to conceal our sexual anatomy, not to accentuate it or turn others on. If LaGuardia sported a pair himself, I doubt he’d have advocated their use.
Alas, thongs were born and derived their name from the Old English term thwong, a flexible leather cord. (Youch.) Making matters weirder, IMO, thong underwear have become somewhat popular for guys over the years. Male dancers donned them first, followed by bodybuilders (strings upholding a pouch) and male strippers. Men’s thongs tend to be more comfortable than women’s, particularly in other countries. In India, for example, men’s thongs are essentially loincloths with fabric ties.
You know what’s not sexy? Bladder and genital inflammation.
As if wedgies weren’t buggy enough, thong underwear may contribute to infections. While researchers haven’t yet analyzed the link, many gynecologists report increasing and recurrent urinary tract and vaginal infections in thong wearers, according to Columbia University’s health department. Doctors speculate that the string moves bacteria into the urethra, setting the stage for infection. (Maybe someone should invent thongs made out of garlic and yogurt; both guard against UTIs! Anyone???)
One aspect of thong popularity I find disconcerting is the fact that it relays the message that appearance matters more than health and comfort—assuming others find thongs as irksome as I do. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe others LOVE the string-up-the-butt feel or don’t really notice it. (Note to self: Research inner-butt-cheek sensitivity.) If so, more power to ’em!
If you have only love for your G-string, may you and your collection share many years of bliss. I’ll keep my mouth shut and stick to what I find more comfortable myself. Regardless, I must know…
How do you feel about thongs? What do you seek in underwear—comfort? Sexiness? Both? Any thong-gone-wrong stories to share? I love hearing from you. ♥ For more thong fun/funniness, join me on the Girl Boner Facebook page and Twitter (#GirlBoner).