“Mommy, where is your underwear?”
I was caught, quite literally, with my pants down. Summoning a carefree expression, I replied, “Mommy isn’t wearing underwear today. When you’re a grown up, you can choose if you want to wear underwear.”
In the small bathroom stall, I wondered if anyone else had heard our conversation. I shrugged in my head. Oh well, if she had.
There is no shame in going commando. It may seem like an odd thing for a mother to do, but most days, I’m running around sans undies. Oh, you didn’t know? Ha, no one else does either. It’s my little secret. 🙂
I wasn’t always this way. I used to be like everyone else, wearing underwear underneath my clothes. I was a hip-hugging, bikini kinda gal, although I would trot out the odd thong when a panty line called for it. I really hate panty lines. It’s the natural order of things: first you put on underwear, then you put on clothes. Until it’s not.
I had never been a commando girl for a variety of reasons. I felt like it would be icky to not have that barrier in between my clothes. I was worried about things like smell and discharge. I didn’t want to give any unsuspecting people unintentional eyefuls. And, like it or not, being a mom factored into it. It just didn’t seem “right.”
Two years ago, there was a slight shift in my thinking. It started in the summer. Y’all, it’s HOT in the summer. It was hot in our house. At night, I couldn’t bring myself to don the extra layer. So all of the sudden, I was baring it all at night, and I didn’t hate it. I had broken the seal, and there was no turning back.
Not long after I began my scandalous night time routine, I realized that the airing out had left things a little fresher downstairs. I began to wonder if maybe I could dip my toe in a little further. I had a new maxi skirt that I loved, but it was that material that shows even the thinnest of lines. “Ok,” I told myself, “a maxi is long. It offers some protection. I would definitely be protected.” One day, I went for it. And it was awesome. After maxis came exercise clothes. I mean, most of them already have liners built in. My underwear was redundant. Next came leggings (talk about a panty line problem!), then pants in general. Shorts and knee length skirts were the last holdouts. But they too eventually fell to my desire to be bare down there. These days, this mom is going commando almost all the time.
There are exceptions to the rule. I haven’t figured out a period solution that doesn’t involve underwear, so once a month I don the dreaded drawers for five to seven days. I also concede any time I have on a twirly dress to go dancing. I like to spin too much to worry about flashing anyone around me. Other than that, it’s free and easy down the road I go.
Running around al fresco has its perks. The reasons I was hesitant have all but disappeared. The downstairs is fresher and less, um, messy, than ever. Thanks to the constant air out, there is no odor. I have become more particular about how I bend and sit because I am, of course, a lady. I feel more confident and sexier, even in my sweats. I mean really, just whisper to your partner one day that you aren’t wearing any underwear. The ensuing look will channel Shania and make you feel like a woman.
So there you have it. A brief (see what I did there?) summary of how I ended up being a commando mama. Think I’m crazy? Curious to try it? Going to start giving the other moms in your life the side eye and wondering if they are wearing panties? Come on in, the water’s fine.