PERILS OF THE PANTYLESS

I Sleep Naked, but I Can’t Go Commando During the Day

Naked is best except when it isn’t

I confess. I’ve been naked in places other than in bed and the shower. Lots of places. French island beaches, sweat lodges, public and private hot tubs, Hippy Hollow in Austin.

Where I can’t go naked is under my clothes. Especially under dresses.

Other women can and do go without panties, even under dresses. While they may marvel at my ability to be naked by choice in public where nudity is allowed and encouraged, I marvel at their ability to go pantyless. There are two reasons that doesn’t work for me.

First, I can be a tad clumsy

I walked my doggie at my apartment complex every morning after first awakening. One early morning, having slept naked as usual, I threw on a dress and no underwear to take Bonnie out. She was 16 and — like me — when she had to go she had to go. Right. The. F. Now.

The dress hit just below my knees, so it felt safe. It wasn’t windy. In fact, it was hot as hell, so the sheer cotton dress was perfect.

What was never perfect was Bonnie’s leash behavior. This day, she zigged when I zagged, dragged me over rocks lining the path, and I went ass over teakettle onto the grass.

The dress flew up around my waist — Bonnie kept pulling — and I rocked like a turtle on its back to get up. There was also a bum knee involved.

I rolled over, got up on hands and knees and then stood and pulled my dress back down to cover the other bum part of me, as well as what my sweet little grandmother called my “twat.”

Obviously — judging by the number of places I’ve chosen to be naked — I’m not shy. But I didn’t want my 80 year old neighbor to have a heart attack caused by laughing had he been in his yard. Whether he laughed from his window I’ll never know, because I’ll never ask. He’s still alive, so I’m guessing not.

From then on, panties were a requirement for walking the dog. If she had to hold her pee a couple more minutes, it was a small price for her to pay so I could retain my dignity.

Second reason I can’t go pantyless— and most important — is vagina juice

I produce a fair amount of it. To compound the issue, I have rather large labial folds which can sneak out of thong panties, or anything other than full-coverage granny panties — which I abhor but have “graduated” to.

Thongs are okay for under pants and shorts. Under dresses, those sneaky folds of mine twist and turn until they‘re mostly free and able to breathe. And when they breathe, they leak. All down my leg.

I could solve that issue by giving up hormone replacement — specifically progesterone — but I am attached to my labia and vagina and its production of vagina juice which keeps everything in tip-top shape and functioning. I’m a fan of my vagina functioning, and functioning well.

So if you see me in a dress, you can assume there are granny panties under it.

If you see me on a French island beach, you’ll see more of me than you ever dreamed.

I’ll be all joie de vivre and letting everything breathe.

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