Friday, April 1, 2011

Dawn’s Thongs

When I was growing up, a thong was one of two sandals I wore to protect my feet. They weren’t very comfortable and sometimes caused blisters where the narrow strip of rubber rubbed between my toes.

Things change, however, and from what I’ve seen, today’s thongs don’t protect much of anything, but they certainly look as if they could cause one heck of a blister. Each is about five square inches of fabric strapped 35 inches northward from the foot and covers nothing but an area a person doesn’t shave unless that person likes whiskers in new, exciting places.

Today’s thong seems more of a torture device for hanging a cat from a ceiling fan than an article of clothing.


(Neither cat was up for stunt duty, so they offered up the bear for sacrifice.)
Given a good meal of rice and beans, a person wearing a thong the next day could turn the article into a musical instrument—a sound akin to blowing a blade of grass stretched between two thumbs.

My daughter calls the threadlike undies “butt floss,” which makes me think twice each night before I draw the glossy white string toward my mouth—not the undies. And appropriate to their sound in motion, she calls the foot protectors “flip-flops.”

To her, butt floss is comfortable and sexy. Comfortable to me is a sundress with no panties, and sexy is a silk gown wrapping a ready body. Also sexy are two of my friends, Dawn and Mary. Mary is 17 years older than I, but has worn undie thongs for at least 15 years.

“Ew!” I said when she slipped into the itty-bitty thingie. “How can you stand that thing?”

“Ever tried one?” she sprang back at me.

Guess it’s like flan or crème brûlée: Just because each dessert looks like coagulated pus, doesn’t mean it tastes like it (even though it does, only a bit sweeter). And given a thong’s seating location, I suspect its appearance gives it away: It can’t be comfortable.

Well, Dawn came to visit me the other night for a sleepover. We hadn’t seen each other since my birthday last June, so I was downright excited to hear her say, “I’m comin’ your way!” I quickly changed the sheets and ensured the wine cellar was replenished.

When Dawn walked into my foyer, my eyes popped. She looked hot! Her hairstyle transformed her into a teenager, and most of her rear had fallen off. She’s a year older and has five more kids than I, yet Dawn looked like a 35-year-old virgin. If I didn’t love her so much, I‘d have been jealous.

We talked till 1:30 when I murmured, “I’m asleep.” Just like the olden days.

The next day we moved into a busy Tuesday, she on her phone, me on my computer, then she set off for an appointment. When she returned in the afternoon, she opened a bag and said, “Here. These are for you!”

With a quick glance and mouth agape, an “ew!” almost popped out, but I caught it in a gasp and accepted the two slingshots with attitude.

She said, “You’ll love ’em. I sure do!” Dawn’s so brave.

So I washed them, but I still haven’t had the guts or occasion to wear one. Oh, what the heck. Excuse me for a moment.

Hmm, I look like a sumo wrestler in a mawashi. My daughter would call me Muffin Top.

Maybe I didn’t put it on correctly. Oh! There.

Just like the olden days.


1 comment:

  1. I laughed hard. That is so funny! I didn't expect to see them on your feet...I was hoping for a better "view". You do have a lovely body, you know! Show it off before the skin crinkles and the thongs can't be seen!

    ReplyDelete

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