Hmmm, that got your attention. Didn't it?
I'm a functional kind of gal when it comes to me undies. I want the twins to stay where I put 'em and I want my drawers to cover both my business and my butt. I tend to wear black panties, with a rare foray into athletic grey. Once upon a time, a friend waxed so eloquently rhapsodic about the erotic nature of wearing a thong that she talked me into purchasing and wearing one, I can only conclude that either I was wearing it wrong or she's full of shit.
So as happens with most rejected undies that are still somewhat presentable, as presentable as underpants ever are anyway, I recently used it as a face mask whilst cleaning out the cat box. As invariably can be counted upon to happen in such a circumstance (because in addition to sporting the thong as a face mask, I'm clad in sportsbra, tattoos and rubber gloves, oh and sweatpants) the doorbell rings with what I presumed to be local Jehovah's but were, in fact, candidates for the boro council. 'Cuz that's the way my dumb luck runs.