Wedgies Aren’t Worth It (In Your Life or Your Business)

Wedgies are not worth it in your life or your business. What are you doing that is uncomfortable just to please others? Isn't it time you stopped?

I got my first thong when I was around 16 years old. I remember this distinctly because the gift tag said “Don’t open these in front of your cousins!” The cousins being referenced were my 20 something male cousins, and the gift was from their mom. I took the box into the next room and tore into a box containing four thongs, one white, one black, one baby blue, and one pink. Never again would I have to worry about panty lines! But better yet, I’d get to enter a phase of womanhood where every time I took my pants off, if a guy happened to see me, he’d think I was sexy.

Except that thongs are possibly the world’s least comfortable garment in the history of ever. You have fabric, intentionally, in your ass crack. Sitting becomes an art where you do a little wiggle to make sure you don’t give yourself a mega wedgie. Standing sometimes involves a similar wiggle to make sure your pants haven’t joined your thong between your cheeks. For me, thongs were a special kind of torture.

And I wore them for years. YEARS.  I subjected myself to a permanent wedgie so no one else would be subjected to my panty lines and so guys who might see me take my pants off could be so happy to be in the room with a girl taking her pants off who was “sexy”. The tail end of my first pregnancy required a switch to maternity panties, for my own sanity, and it was then that I discovered the heaven that was a pair of underwear that wasn’t made to intentionally reside between your bum cheeks. My ex called them my ‘sails’. Big white briefs with a thick stretchy lace edge for my belly comfort. Not one thing sexy about them, and you know what? I. Didn’t. Care.

Now I figure, if I take my pants off with a guy in the room, he better just be grateful my pants are coming off. Any comments about my (still very cute!) full butt coverage panties will result in immediate eviction from the room.

There’s a point here! I promise. It’s this:

In what ways are you making yourself uncomfortable to make other people like you? What tortures are you subjecting yourself to in order to draw people to you and keep them there? And WHY are you doing it?

For the record, I’ve never had a man who voiced a complaint about the underwear I had on once my pants came off. Ever. Because he wants to be there. With me. And my comfort equals a level of sexiness that the awkward no wedgie butt wiggle never can. (Mom, if you’re reading this, I promise the only man to ever see my pants come off was my husband at the time.)

This applies everywhere. The more comfortable you are – the less you are subjecting yourself to discomfort for the sake of others or appearances – the more you will draw people who really are interested in being there with you. Friends, family, partners, clients. All of them want you in your most authentic state. When you do something just to make someone else happy, even if it makes you unhappy, it bleeds through. People can sense that in you. Disingenuous people will start to wonder how they can take advantage of that.

Ever taken on a client you really didn’t want to work with? Ever noticed how they seem like little psychic vampires who just know that if they push and prod at you eventually you’ll just give in and give them the break, deal or discount they keep bugging you for? Or had a friend who always made you come to her, bend to her schedule or complained that you didn’t keep in touch enough, without ever making her own effort to call?

Let’s call them wedgies for now. And refuse to let them in our pants.

Photo Credit: eriwst via Creative Commons.

Stephanie Ostermann

I’m the sort of girl who you meet for coffee and end up pouring your entire heart out to. The friend you come to when you need someone to call it straight. No bullshit. No extras. Just truth.

I’m a communicator. That’s a PC way of saying I like to talk, but I also spend a lot of my time listening, and over the years, I’ve developed a sense for subtext – how one or two words can change your entire message, what people are really trying to say and how to weave the varied layers of your story into one cohesive brand message that your clients fall in love with.

When I'm not acting as editor in chief for Vivid & Brave, you can find me geeking out over words here.

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