Granny Panty Groove

I was at a loss for something to write about and Lorde knows I’m notorious (B.I.G.) for letting that keep my blog stagnant for months at a time. I didn’t want that to happen this month, so I turned to Facebook for suggestions. It was mostly unhelpful, but someone suggested I write about “granny panties”, so here we are. I’m not sure if this person had a specific scenario in mind, so what you’re getting is a strange meandering thought process of mine.

Let’s talk about sex. Baby. But really, there is an overarching assumption that “sexy” is a static entity. That there is one road to hot-town and no fork to be seen. But I love forks. They help me eat food, which is the thing I love most in this world. Aside from the New Kids on the Block, red lipstick and unrealistically high heels. Do I wear granny panties? You bet. I’m wearing a white cotton pair right now. And there’s a rip in the waist-band. But they sit unobtrusively atop my rotund bottom and don’t create any problems for me like other more universally aesthetically pleasing panties might.

With curves (wide turns) like mine, there isn’t room for underclothing that might change the topography of my body. All clothing must lay gently on my skin and let the natural shape show through. If there is a slight squeeze, rolls happen. Rolls that defuse my bombshell and give the impression that parts of my sexual anatomy are puffy. You heard me. Without outside forces to mold my fluffy bits into the rolling face of a bulldog, I’m just a wider version of an hourglass woman. It works in the nude (assuming it’s REALLY cold wherever I’m being nude) and with granny panties providing a neutral barrier between the naturally distributed body fat and the prying eyes of the male (or female) gaze.

Something as overtly sexual as a thong does nothing good for my body. Aside from the oh-so-trashy whale-tail situation, it digs into my hips and dips. It uses my flesh as handles to grip as if its stringy, lycra life depends on enveloping itself in my side-butt. I’ve never seen a thong big enough for a size 16 downstairs, but I have to believe that if it doesn’t grip my handles tightly, it’ll sag in some pretty unflattering places. If you’re not picturing me in nothing but a saggy thong right now, you’re reading this wrong. Take a minute. Yep. Not cute.

As I’ve discussed at great lengths before, I have a big butt. If you like it and you cannot lie, I do like to hear a nice compliment every once in a while. And if you’re dead sexy like my granny panties, maybe we’ll complement each other.

As long as it’s really cold.

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