A Brief Blog Entry

I went to work without underwear on today.

Well, not really. I happened to be wearing basketball shorts underneath my jeans. Minus the brief. I woke up late yet again this evening (I work on graveyards, remember?) and somewhere along the way through my "morning" routine, I was unable to find a clean pair of undies and wound up hastily leaving without them. I really didn’t mean to stop by the laundry basket and pick some up on my way out. That’s just me-back-when-we-were-on-our-thesis-days-ish.

So I traversed the entire stretch of MoA on my merry way to the office in my undershorts. It was quite pleasant. It felt unrestricting.

And, of course, it got me to thinking - as these things so often do:

Is wearing underwear a necessity?

I mean, why do we even have to wear them? Given the way they’re cut nowadays it most certainly isn’t for coverage. As if a piece of string is able to envelop a bird and its eggs and everything that came with the package. And why a G-string is called as such is a totally different story altogether.

Is it a hygiene issue? Is the outer layer of our clothing not enough to keep the microorganisms at bay? Am I going to acquire STD for going commando? Will I be approached by the Brief Enforcers for forgoing my underwear in favor of freedom and little whooshes of cool breeze?

I’ve always hated wearing briefs since Godknowswhen. I only wear jocks at work. At home it’s just me in my usual tatay shorts. The only problem is when I wake up and have to walk around the house with a very noticeable boner. In order to hide it I would normally place one hand in my crotch pretending I’m scratching my twinkie, which doesn’t help lessen the discomfiture at all.

Now if only all the ladies would agree in doing the same. But then again, the voyeur in me says nothing is more stunning than the faint outline of frilly, lacey thong on a pretty lady’s rear. Also, there's just something that makes women feel pretty whenever they’re wearing girly panties.