The Thing about Thongs

I was walking down the street the other day with a younger, hipper friend of mine when two lovely, leggy young women strutted past us wearing jeans that appeared to have been painted on their taut, curvy booties. With a mixture of envy and judgmentalism, I turned to my friend and said, "Okay, where are their panty lines? Haven't they heard of underwear? I mean, as cute as their little pre-baby-birthing butts are, do they really want the whole world to see them under their jeans?" She replied matter-of-factly, "Oh, they're probably wearing thongs. That way they won't have panty lines under their jeans. It makes their butts look nice and smooth." Duh! I hadn't thought that they might be wearing thongs. People my age don't wear thongs. Or at least we shouldn't wear them. Even our significant others don't want us to wear them. They just point up how saggy and flat our butts have gotten. I grew up in the pre-thong era (this was the era just after dinosaurs became extinct on the historical timeline) when panty lines were inevitable under tight clothing. But it wasn't a problem  because everyone else had them too. Nowadays, if you have the dreaded VPLs, you're showing the world not only your underwear, but also how clueless you are about making the most of your ass-ets. Well, at the risk of being labeled a prude or an old fogey, I'm going to have to say no thanks to thongs. Not only am I too "mature" for them, they're uncomfortable, they necessitate more shaving, and they don't sell them in multi-packs at WalMart, so I'm not buying them. I'm saving my money for my next pair of Spanx, thanks.