November 2005: I posted several little rants about the stupidity of thongs and g-strings as opposed to underwear that actually cover your ass. My point was twofold. I felt that thongs and g-strings tended to encourage women to get various uncomfortable snatch waxes or shaves so that they wouldn’t have pubic hair hanging out from the snatch pouch of a g-string or thong since it would defeat the point of looking sexy. I also thought that g-strings and things would be very uncomfortable to wear given that a) there’s a string constantly in the wearer’s ass crack, b) there’s no butt coverage, which could lead to chafing against jeans or other rough fabric, and c) there’s no ass cheek support, leaving the wearer’s butt to excessive jiggle every time the thong/g-sting wearer moves rapidly. I posted many pictures of ridiculous g-strings and thongs sold by Victoria’s Secret and mocked the crap out of them. As I had never at that point subjected myself to a thong or g-string, this was mocking and ranting from the perspective of what I perceived as opposed to experienced.
At the end of the month, my friend S.D., who is everything I am not (tall, stylish, well-kempt, etc.), emailed me and said she thought I should give thongs and g-strings a try. She loved these types of underwear and felt that my rants were unfounded and that once I experienced the joy of a string riding my ass all day (I am paraphrasing here; the exact text can be found in a Nov. 30 post), I would be converted forever. At the very least, she noted, I would have something good to write about if I wore a g-string and thong for a day each. I am not one to turn down a challenge, so I agreed to try some. She told me that I could not just go out and buy the cheapest stuff I saw (she knows me too well), but that I’d need actual quality undergarments.
December 2005: I began my search for quality thongs or g-strings that cost me less than $5. I realized that it would also be important to model my
current underwear and explain why I bought them. However, posting pictures of myself in my underwear with my pubic hair hanging out seemed to not be a good idea for a variety of reasons, and my loyal teddy bear of 17 years stepped in and saved my ass (literally) by volunteering to serve as a model. Theo endured many photo sessions and rivaled Victoria’s Secret models, despite his furriness. When it came to modeling g-strings and thongs, though, Theo put his paw down and declined to continue as a CUSS and SWoUR model. After an apartment-wide audition, the Giant Stuffed Penis became CUSS’s Next Top Model.As the Giant Stuffed Penis prepped for its big modeling debut, I realized that Theo’s modeling sessions had not accurately portrayed the pubic sprawl many human women experience. I went to Michael’s craft store in Long Island and bought some curly doll hair, figuring it would make a perfect pubic wig (a merkin).
I also obtained my first thong on eBay, a M/L sized Cosabella Talco low-rise red thong with a rhinestone B monogram for $2.99 plus shipping and handling. While I eagerly awaited the arrival of my thong in the mail, I went on a shopping excursion with two friends to Jersey Gardens, an outlet mall near Newark Airport in New
Jersey. I was able to secure a Calvin Klein Choices g-string at the Calvin Klein underwear outlet store for $2.99. The Giant Stuffed Penis modeled it and then I wore it for a very uncomfortable day in which the horror of the g-string seemed to cause the metal button on my Old Navy corduroy pants to explode in disgust. In order to prevent my pants from falling down and exposing my ass in all its cellulite- and assne-ridden glory to my co-workers, I used two binder clips to keep my pants tightly fastened. At the end of the day, the string on the g-string stank horribly. I speculated that I may have bought the wrong size g-string (the crotch part extended into my ass, which was very irritating) and thought I might seek out another pair for a trial run.
Finally, my Cosabella thong arrived. The Giant Stuffed Penis did some of its best modeling work to date. I then went on vacation. When I came back, I washed the thong, but it fell out of my laundry basket in the elevator, causing me immense embarrassment when another resident emerged holding it in her fingers as one might hold the tail of a mouse and declared to the building staff that “someone lost these.” I reclaimed them, but had to wash them again before I could wear them, as god only knows who had stepped on them or worse while they rode the elevator up and down (much like I think they will ride my ass).January 2006, first week: My husband did laundry that included the thong, so I am ready to wear them this week. Early indications are not good, as I tried them on last night and my husband made a face and told me that they “do not compliment” my figure. Of course, it might be the serious fat and hair hanging out all over the place causing me to look fucking horrendous. They also didn’t feel very good in my ass for the few minutes I had them on, but again, I shall give the thong a chance and wear it a full day on Monday or Tuesday.
Stay tuned for new adventures in my underwear!
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