When I heard the news that Emma Watson sported a see-through dress and a thong on the red carpet at the Oscars, I had to groan and shake my head. But, being the huge Hermione Granger fan that I am, I did check out the pictures. The back of the dress was a see-through from top to bottom, the top being more so than the bottom. I don’t think I would have noticed that the bottom was a see-through unless someone told me. I was quite relieved not to see the triangle of the thong peeking out from underneath.
As a young computer technician many years ago, I had a woman co-worker who was always flashing her thong at me. I could not look away from my computer screen without noticing that her T-shirt and jeans had parted ways as she bent over to do something near my cube. A tiny triangle of cloth rested above her bare ass cheeks. Everyday she wore a different thong. I don’t think I ever saw the same thong twice. That went on for a year.
One day we had lunch together in the cafeteria when most of our coworkers who would normally join us were out sick. Somehow we started talking about her collection of thongs. Somehow I mentioned that I wasn’t a thong kind of guy. Somehow things remained awkward between us for the rest of the day.
The thong has no appeal to me. I’m a big fan of the well-defined bikini tan with a full bikini covering front and rear with enough fabric for four or five thongs. (Bikini top, underarm hair and being French were optional.) Since I grew up in the 1970’s with the Coppertone Girl appearing on numerous billboards and reading my father’s Playboy magazines from underneath the bathroom sink, the sexist media of my formative years may have influenced my tastes in young women’s behind.
You can guess what happened after my co-worker and I had that conversation.
She started wearing low-cut panties that covered her bare ass cheeks from side to side while revealing her plumber’s crack. Everyday she wore different panties. I don’t think I ever saw the same panties twice. That went on for another year. After we were both lay off from that particular job, I never had to worry about thongs and panties ever again. Sexual harassment and political correctness seminars eliminated such flirtatious behavior in the corporate work environment.
I always wondered what her motives were for flashing her underwear at me. I doubted she wanted a quick fling in the office supply closet. Maybe I was a special challenge because I didn’t respond to her flirting like the other guys did, and acted like a professional by ignoring her outrageous behavior. Although I could have taken advantage of her (and she might have let me), I didn’t want to have that kind of trouble at work. If she had a well-defined bikini tan, things might have been different.