The Bottom Line

I guess writing about Bob getting Barb thong underwear for her birthday (see post below) reminded me of when I bought a thong leotard. I would never do that now, but about 10 years ago when everyone was wearing them to the gym, I thought I would get one, too. It was apparel designed to boldly go where no garment had gone before – on purpose.

But, after many months of biking, walking, running and weight training I had lost 12 pounds and was feeling well on my way to “buff”. The ratty old t-shirts, large enough to comfortably house four aerobics instructors, had been getting in my way and were rather unflattering. Instead of a potato in a potato sack I looked more like a potato skin in a potato sack. I figured if everyone else at the gym was letting it all hang out, I should too.

The first thing I did was get a babysitter. I was not taking my children with me on my quest for what has commonly been referred to as “butt floss.” This was not the kind of activity of which family outings were made. I needed my own undivided space.

I walked into a local sporting goods store and moseyed over to the leotard display. Things had changed a lot since the days when I wore leotards to ballet class. Back then, many moons ago, it seemed daring to bare your back. Now, I had a haunch, there had been a parting of the ways. It seemed as though a divided derriere was more the scenery of choice.

I had no idea which size to try on. Was I supposed to go by my dress size or by the size of my cheeks? Since both were large, I decided to opt for the biggest size they had.

A cute little sales girl arrived as I was searching for a thong in black. I was not about to try on a white one. I was afraid I’d look like a marshmallow on a skewer from the back.

She found a black one for me and, as she showed me to a dressing room, I told her how unsure I was about trying it on. I told her how I had been working my butt off, so to speak, and was feeling as though I now looked presentable enough to make this split decision.

I tried the thong on over a pair of bike shorts. I was amazed because I had expected to look worse. I didn’t look good by a long shot, but I felt I could get away with it. I opened the dressing room door to peek at myself in the full-length mirror in the hallway. The cute little sales girl was standing right there, which I hadn’t expected. I was hoping no one would see my assets.

“Well, now,” she said. “You don’t look that bad.”

“Hey,” I thought to myself, “I worked pretty darn hard to look this bad.” I quickly backed up into the dressing room.

I did buy the thong. Then all I had to do was get up the nerve to wear it when I arrived at the gym. I was afraid I’d be the butt of everyone’s jokes. I put the thong leotard over a pair of bike shorts and topped the whole ensemble with a cropped t-shirt, as if covering my top would give me the confidence to bare my rear. I was not yet ready to make a bold statement. I needed a day or two to get used to the idea that my debut in a thong leotard at the gym might very well cause the world’s first-ever indoor eclipse.

I did everything I could think of before I left the locker room in order to delay my inevitable entrance into the gym. I put lotion on my arms and rearranged my hair, as if that would detract from my fancy fanny. I even checked the mirror to be sure I had put in on correctly. I wanted to make sure I was even. Secure in the fact that I was, I decided to take my continental divide for a ride.

Walking out to the gym I realized how weird this sensation truly was. I had spent my whole life pulling my panties out from the place this thing was designed to be. I had to fight with myself to try not to pull it out. Even if I could, it would have no other place to go. A piece of spandex ½ inch wide will pretty much stay put – even if that means in a place no self-respecting panty would ever get caught.

So, I did it. I got out there and rode that bike and lifted those weights, and no one said a thing. No one even looked at me, or smiled at me, or turned away in disgust. It was just me and my thong, doing our thing. No ifs, ands, or butts.

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