Over at madame zenobia’s we had a little pity party for ourselves about how much we miss living in the south. Well, to be fair, so far everyone has left examples of missed life and of NOT MISSED life. At any rate, I’ll count this as part of my NOT MISSED life in VA.
I am grateful that those “underpants” exist–think of what we’d see if they weren’t there? (Who uses the word “underpants” anymore anyway? Aren’t we talking about “boxer shorts,” anyway? Though I guess “boxers” don’t sound as intimate or offensive as “underpants” does.)
Well, I’ll TELL you what you’d see if they weren’t there. As the sister of a brother who for many a year thought it was hippy-cool to forgo the undergarment option, and as that brother also thought it was too much work to weave a belt (or rope! It could have been of hemp!!) through his jeans, I spent those years averting my eyes from the horror of what his fashion choices made too, too clear.
Let me tell you. He got all manner of “underpants” from me for Christmas for many years in row. Damn I wasted a lot of money on those obvious hints–hints he apparently graciously donated to the Rescue Mission on Boxing Day.
But to the more important point, here: to be “offended” by someone’s apparel is to have too much time on one’s hands. This fashion is a manifestation of another more important revolt, and this legislation is working to silence, control, halt, or otherwise oppress expression.
Further: clothing is highly overrated, anyway. The human body is not something to be ashamed about, or embarrassed by, or offended by. My dear brother understands this better than I, it seems.