Club Monaco crop top and jacket, Zara white skirt, Via Spiga sandals, Ray-Ban sunglasses
Anyone who knows me, knows I love a lot of coverage, and by coverage I mean I like the places on my body that look like ham hocks and also my private bits to be covered. Extra covered. That means you will never see the tops of my arms and my tooshie will always be in full-butted underwear otherwise known as granny panties.
I fully admit that I have worn a thong only about a handful of times and only in the most dire of circumstances. I'm sorry, but a string going up my crack and a tiny triangle in the front barely constitutes healthy butt coverage. I need at least two layers between me and whatever that bum put on that Bart seat I'm sitting on. Sure there's been some awkward dating moments between dates 3 and 10 when I switch from sexy to full-butted undies and there's some sort of silent wave of confusion; but that's they're problem. So imagine my own surprise, at myself, when I decided to go commando in this white skirt. Honestly, I just thought that it would be easier to go commando than to wear an uncomfortable worthless thong where my butt and most of my vag would be exposed anyways. And I was right! It felt amazing. I was totally that girl in the movie that has the witty banter with the hot guy, and I end up saying "I'm not wearing any." So, if it was socially acceptable...or hygienic, "commando" would be my middle name. Except after 20 minutes I started to get all kinds of anxiety about what could crawl up my na-na and the repercussions of sitting down on any surface that another butt has touched. So, I ended up back in my full-butted underwear like Cinderella, but what a glorious 20 minutes of standing at the Ball.
Hermes, David Yurman, Anarchy Street bracelets, Michele watch, my own rings
