If you Google ‘women’s underwear’, the results you’re greeted with are enough to send any horny man wild.
‘Lacy thong’, ‘low-cut bra’, ‘lace bodice,’ the search engine screams at you, complete with pictures of washboard abs and peachy bums adorned in the kind of delicate designer wear you’d imagine Christian Grey ripping off with his teeth.
Newsflash: not all of us have washboard abs and peachy bums.
More to the point, women don’t usually feel like walking into the office wearing a pair of crotchless panties.
The last time I wore a thong, I almost lost it up my backside, and anything that’s fitted or covered in lace is just going to result in hours of chafing. Hello, some people have hips.
And, more importantly, some people just want to throw on some comfy underwear and get on with their day.
Why is that so hard if you’re a woman?
Going into a high street store to get a multipack of underwear rarely works, either.
The sizing is often so off that I have to get a four-pack of enormous bloomers that either rub against my stomach or repeatedly fall down.
And if I want to get a pair of pants that won’t suddenly get a massive hole in the crotch three weeks in, I’m looking at shelling out £20 a pop.
To those who say ‘thongs are quite comfy, actually’, clearly you don’t have a bit of a belly and thunder thighs.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of my body. But I don’t want to feel constantly, and painfully, aware of where the fat rolls are when a pair of lacy briefs are digging into me.
And sure, it can feel empowering to invest in a pair of sexy pants and walk around knowing you look great underneath your trousers.
But, sometimes, as a woman, you just want to throw on something comfortable and not have to think about it, especially during a certain time of the month.
One afternoon, as I got in from work and threw off my tight, holey underpants.
I Googled ‘men’s underwear’ to see what they’re dealing with.
The results page was a whole other world from the lacy thongs and Brazilian briefs littering the female one.
I was greeted with ‘stretch cotton boxers’, ‘multipack pure comfort’ and ‘supportive under armour’.
I mean, I don’t have need ‘under armour’ to support anything, but I do have a muffin top in need of some stretchy comfort.
My conclusion? Screw sexist underwear branding.
No more would I be squeezing into briefs that cut into my hips, dealing with wedgies in toilet cubicles or throwing yet another pair of holey panties in the bin.
The next day, I bought a four pack of plain white men’s boxers.
When I pulled them on, the feeling of relief was extraordinary.
There was no chafing, no risk of getting a wedgie, and my outfit looked better overall because there was no roll of fat popping out over a pair of overpriced panties.
I’ve not worn women’s underwear since making the switch, and I couldn’t be happier.
In fact, the other week the guy I’m seeing said he found it hot.
Maybe Mr Grey should try ripping off a pair of £2 boxers with his teeth instead.