The evil is defeated: Thongs are over

2007 was a big year. Carrie Underwood won a Grammy, Rihanna released her hit single “Umbrella” featuring Jay-Z, and in the back corners of 18+ nightclubs everywhere, thongs and low rise jeans finally had their moment.

But it’s been ten long years, and women are finally standing up for themselves. Carrie Underwood has turned to SoulCycle, Rihanna is sitting pretty on a makeup empire, and yet the rest of us still have one hell of a mountain to climb — a mountain called thongs.

We’ve begun with little steps — swapping our underwire for bralettes, skimping on shampoo, allowing our leg hair to grow (under jeans, of course). So why do we still feel trapped?

Why do we slide out of that full, absorbent, cotton Hanes coverage every morning in exchange for a literal butt-muzzle?

Don’t think me dense. There is a time and place for thongs, and when my ex texts me “I miss you,” again at 2am on a Saturday, I will be there — shaving those legs, and slipping into a pair of my most uncomfortable underwear, as if he’s not going to tear it all off in one fell swoop, thrust twice and call me an Uber while explaining that his new (hotter) girlfriend will be back soon.

He’s distracted by his Infidelity. He does not care about the thong.

And I know what you’re going to say: What about the panty lines? Panty lines are fine. Most of the guys you’ll come across this week probably won’t even be wearing matching socks. You do not owe your ass chaffing to anyone.

Do yourself a favor, and forgive yourself for wearing real underwear; for to forgive is to set a prisoner free, and to discover that prisoner was you.

@carolinephinney