Sunday, May 9, 2010

#28 - Part 2 The Wearing of the thong

So today was the day. Thong day. yip .... ee.

I feel as though I need to provide some background to my relationship with this particular piece of underwear for you all to understand where I'm comin' from.

If any of you have read very far you would know that I have grown up the 'fat kid' my entire life. With that comes the perception that you always are so. I still look in the mirror and see the same thing as I always have: someone who needs to lose weight or get in shape. I'm hoping that as I continue to get healthy my outlook on myself will as well.

I don't need comments left on the blog to tell me that I'm not fat. I know that I'm not fat. I don't need people to tell me how perfectly beautiful I am, I know every creature is in their own way. I am completely aware that it's more a matter of changing what is imprinted in my mind. It's no easy task for someone who has been identified one way their whole entire life.

It's funny, I remember talking with a very close cousin of mine a couple of years ago about it and she said she never remembered ever seeing me that way (overweight). She was 7 years younger so she didn't really know me as the 'fat little kid' and since she had only looked up to me, she didn't see the 'chubby teenager' either. I found it interesting to hear the shock in her voice when I told her of my past and my struggles.

Anyhoo, it's that baggage that has tied me to stick to such traditional or conservative ways in my life. I would have died first of embarrassment before even thinking myself worthy of putting on something so .... skimpy before in my life. Underwear like that was for thin people, not people like me.

As I have come drastically out of my shell in the past 10 years, discovering more and more of myself, and realizing I'm not actually a shy little girl with zero confidence but a rather feisty, fun loving, confident woman who now needs to learn a few things she missed out on during her earlier years. (Though I realize I am still very much in my 'earlier years').

I remember learning of a few of my friends who were wearing thongs (it sounds like I'm saying they were prostitutes - I'm not), I was shocked. I don't know if I thought it was wrong or what but clearly I was delusional about it. I have never, ever had an inkling to want to wear them as they look rather painful and honestly I didn't see a point. Why not just go commando? How much could two little triangles and a few inches of string accomplish anyway?

I'm not sure why I feel it necessary to try and where one, perhaps it's because I feel that I have preconceived notions about those that do and I want to identify or understand this floss wearing phenomenon, who knows. But it made my list and I am (or was) determined to give it a shot. For the sake of understanding.

Here is the story of try #1:

Day/Time: Sunday Morning approximately 10:30am.
Location: My bedroom
Witnesses: Husband, two dogs and myself.

I come from the bathroom where I have just dried off after a shower. I have already put on my bra and am now in a flurry to get this 'experience' over with. Or should I say started.

Wally is near the bed getting dressed as well. Eager to see how this is all going to unfold. He clearly does not mind being in attendance.

I pick up my *clears throat* ... th ... Yes .... thhhhh...oooong. Thong. (There got it out). *breaths deep*

I give it a quick inspection during some stressful banter with Wally and I try quickly to climb into it. I say climb because that's how it felt as the string got caught in between my toes and I nearly went flying while trying to hold my balance.

My cat like reflexes saved my ass (literally) and I maintained my dignity. *laughes to self*

I pull up the sides and carefully make sure all is in the proper place. Yes I believe I had both large and small triangles where they were supposed to be. As for the strings involved. I do believe they were right too.

I stood there looking in the mirror pivoting myself back and forth, back and forth. Eyebrows crinkled and gazing at my reflection with concern, deep concern.

'Why did I do this?' I ask continuing to look.

'WHY would I do this?! This is so stupid! I hate this!'

I stomp into the bedroom closet looking for some item of clothing to cover my very exposed ... derriere.

Wally is standing beside the bed watching me begin to steam. Wearing a smile and stifling a giggle he asks: 'Don't you feel sexy and empowered?'

After a brief pause I shout back.

'No I feel violated!!!!!!!!' I then start to throw single articles of clothing to and fro to try on over my irritant.

It's at this point Wally loses it and falls over onto our bed into a heap of unbridled laughter. He continues this fit until he can barely breathe. Finally he comes up for air. (Not that I was all that concerned in the moment).

I threw on a skirt that I love. It fits no matter what size I am (not that it mattered as I am the lowest weight I've been for a while) and I usually feel great in it.

I slide it over my hips and turn around to see what evidence may be escaping my backside view of any new understring I may be wearing. There it was. A small little triangle distinctly displayed as if to say 'I'm here!! Yes I am, for all to notice. If you see me you know what she's wearing. All it would take is a nice strong wind and you could have a peak at EVERYTHING else she has too. Hee hee hee!'

I'm tellin' you that damn thong had a voice.

I decided to try a different skirt that held more promise (or at least one I thought would hold a few of mine better than the last skirt did).

I put it on but it was not comfortable. I looked at my stomach in it and decided I better not risk it as we were planning on a bigger meal for lunch and I knew this new found 'friend' of mine wouldn't be faithful in disguising the potential food baby that may pop up post meal.

I thought that perhaps pants would help the situation. I tried some on. I think the triangle was hidden, but the rest of my rump wasn't. Again I felt a little too vulnerable to venture out in public with this new piece of useless equipment.

I huffed and puffed a bit more. Adjusted and readjusted the rudder of this little ship only to no avail. I couldn't do it. Not yet anyways. I still am not at a place where I feel comfortable enough in my clothes (or skin) to go unguarded.

I peeled myself out of my newly acquired thong and put on some old faithfuls.

Ahhhhhh myself again.

(I'm positive I heard my panties say 'That's what I'm talking about'.)

I put on some pants that made me feel good and I concluded to revisit this dire situation in a few weeks. Of course by then I may need a new size as I am shrinking little by little, but no worries, I WILL complete this task ... I WILL.

However, for now I will be ever thankful for my panty lines and welcome everyone of them.