Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor....

...your chapped (or simply exhausted) butt cheeks yearning to be comforted. There is something to be said for the glory of the full-butted unders. And by unders, I mean underwear. You feel me? Unmentionables? I won't say the "p-dash-dash-dash-i-e-s" word because I loathe it.



I typically am a th*ng, th*ng, th*ng, th*ng, th*ng, gal, but recently I have been sick and tired of it all. Full-butteds had been the stepchild of my underwear drawer, relegated to the confines of pre-laundry days. But I was recently seduced by a particularly adorable appliqued three-pack at Old Navy and I threw caution to the VPL (visible p*nty lines) wind. Yes, in white pants or other light colored pants, th*ngs rock and roll, but who am I kidding? They are not comfortable and sometimes, my cheeks need a break. I mean, they need to comforted by a little cotton covering. And I don't think that's too much to ask. I think there is an absolute place for briefs -- if you will -- in a woman's underwear vocabulary.

My only hesitation comes in the recollection of a conversation my (former) roommates and I had once with two men about town in regard to the girl crush known as the tap pant. We attempted to explain that they were cute and adorable but received the response, "They're granny panties."

And no one wants that. It's -- dare I say -- unpretty?