Admittedly, I’ve been ignoring the signs for a while. After each of the last several loads of laundry, I’d toss this pair or that pair of undies in the trash. And, there were a few close calls getting ready for work–just when I thought I had nothing to pull on under my slacks that day, I’d find a stashed bag of unfolded clean clothes in a corner of the bedroom.
But Sunday, when I was dressing for my 10-miler all I found in my underwear drawer were two pairs of Spanx, the crumbling remains of a potpourri sachet, and a few lacy nothings, designed to be worn for a maximum of two hours (or however long dinner lasts before you get your man into bed). I groaned, No undies?! and the drawer replied with a dull echo, “No undies…. undies…. undies….”
The drawer (or my drawers?) had spoken. I had two options: run knickerless, or don’t run at all.
Now, I don’t know how you all feel about women who take a pass on the panties. I’m divided. It can be kind of skanky, like when Lindsey Lohan flashed the paparazzi her beav. But, it can also be kind of naughty, like after spending the night with a guy you pull on your jeans (’cause he’s taking you to brunch) but stuff your panties in your bag. When I lived in California–just to get it all out there–my roommates voted me “Most Likely to Go Commando.” I have no idea why (really).
The bottom line is that I was slightly perturbed by the idea of running without a proper layer over my, er, bottom. I was bummed I had nothing to cover my–you guessed it–bum. There was no recourse: I didn’t have the time to do a load of laundry, and wait for the dryer cycle; I don’t live near a store that sells underwear; Husband wears cotton boxers (yes, my desperate mind had traveled that far).
I was disappointed to discover that running knickerless does not make you faster. There’s no aerodynamic benefit from the absence of panty lines; and apparently the principal of weight differential that applies to racing flats does not translate to underpants (training pants? No, that doesn’t sound quite right…). Running knickerless is neither more nor less comfortable, neither warmer nor cooler.
The sole benefit of running sans culotte is the pleasure of having a secret. As I trotted through Astoria, wedgie-free, I surely had a private smile on my face as I mused, These people don’t know it but I’m not wearing any underwear!