I am a seeker, curious by nature and think outside the box. However, recently some of that dynamic energy has been committed to the process of finding the right underpants, butt shapers, boy shorts or tummy controlled undies to give me the coverage I’m so desperately in need of under my yoga pants. It’s frickin driving me crazy! The story I’m about to tell is gritty, real and full of hope. It reminds me of a documentary I once watched about the search for Ogopogo; people truly believing that this elusive Sea Monster actually exists and taking precious time to, hopefully, turn the myth into a reality. I am that explorer – so I hunt, shop and unfortunately spend way too much money on a whack of poorly fitting panties. But I am not a quitter.
Just to be clear, this is not a process of trying to hide my bottom or about any concern related to my behind. My issue is that I truly believe there are some things in life that are simply mine and mine alone – and my new knowledge of my see through pants has ruined my butt methodology. I only found out about this tragedy when I bent over to pick up a pen off the floor, in my home, and my beloved husband informed me that he could see my bottom… and then he took a photo. Perfect. That pic shook me to the core and right then and there I had a choice to make - I could choose to be that woman who didn't care if her assets were on display for the world to see or to do my best to get the right gear to wear under my tissue paper pants.
The World of Department Underpants
It’s almost mind numbing the amount of terrible ill-fitting underwear that’s on the market today. It seems like a simple request: find a pair of seamless panties that gives me the security of full ass coverage. My journey has taken me to several department stores, where I've tried on a variety of styles and brands. I actually had my heart start to race with excitement when I went to Wal-Mart the other day because the selection of under garments was so superb. However, the more I tried on, the more issues presented themselves; not enough coverage (bottom of my ass was hanging out), too tight (back fat jumping up and out) and the seams way too thick and bulky. But the crème de la crème was a horribly uncomfortable full pantie suit that was made with imitation rubber that's supposed to hide our bumps and lumps… geez! I tried it on and couldn't get it off… I thought it was stuck and had to start deep breathing so I wouldn't lose it. Discouraged but not totally ready to give up my dream of wearing thin fabrics, I thought I would try something unique, different and totally radical. I slowly made my way to the men’s underwear section. I wish I had sunglasses and a ball cap… but a hair clip and downward cast eyes had to suffice. Could it be that I found a solution? Has the Universe granted me the gift of breaking down gender boundaries, putting aside roles and reconnecting with humanity through this process? Umm… not even close. When I slid on the men’s small boxer brief, and stared and my sad self in the mirror, it had a tennis ball size hanging air pocket at my crotch that certainly would not be hidden in any spandex pant. OMG, what was I thinking and how do I hand a pair of opened tried on men’s tighty whitey's back to the Wal-Mart change room lady? It was a proud moment.
And here it is: the pants that have given me so much grief are
the same pants that have taught me a lesson. Through this ridiculous journey, I have unknowingly bared it all and have been left feeling insecure or unsure. However, as I come to grasp the bigger picture, I understand that these pants represent what most of cannot be: transparent, open and authentic. These pants have liberated my soul. There is nothing to hide, because there is nothing to be ashamed of. If we can put aside the feelings of needing to cover up who we are, we would find a beautiful creature within waiting to be discovered. I am choosing to bask in my imperfect perfection, and be one with my yoga pants.