A while back I accepted an invitation to an in-person fitting at the headquarters of an online purveyor of underpinnings. It was surprisingly difficult to get there. I overestimated the ease of parking south of Market. Did I love driving in circles and finally, out of desperation, parking in an alley filled with people suffering from, well, probably a lot of different things, but perhaps we can use the umbrella diagnosis of acute scariness? Not at all. Once I got there, did I love the bras? Not as much as I hoped to.
Nevertheless, I was glad I went. I was able to give them some feedback on their website and, should I have a change of heart about the merchandise, I know what fits, what doesn't, and what I can't fasten without risking injury (discouragingly, there is more than one thing in that category).
As a thank you for coming, I was presented with a free pair of underwear. I was pretty excited. Something free that is also useful? Cool. I didn't actually look at them until I got home and then...I laughed.
I know that there is a whole trend in which women wear things (particularly sweatpants) with words emblazoned across their perky posteriors. As a person who seldom even wears a t-shirt with words on it, it will not surprise you to learn that I am not on board. In short, let's have some dignity, people.
Presumably one's knickers have a much narrower audience than one's outerwear, so maybe it's less egregious to use them as a unique communication platform. Maybe. But even if I were convinced that was a great idea, I'm pretty sure I'd still think it was super creepy to have the word:
printed in large letters across the entire width of my ass. Adding, in much smaller lettering, the words "with me" doesn't do a whole hell of a lot to improve the situation. Nevertheless, however I may feel about it, I now own just such a garment. Oh, frabjous day!
The good news is that now, should I ever need to visit a proctologist, I know what to wear.