I’ve noticed of late that female clothing has become more and more see through. It’s a disease that has spread to all articles of clothing and it seems I can’t walk into clothing stores and try on a top, dress, pants or skirt without some (or most) pieces showing my underwear. I’m not sure I understand this trend towards low thread-count apparel; if I wanted people to see my underwear I simply wouldn’t wear clothes. Or I’d wear the underwear on the outside a la Superman (although that could lead to false superhero recognition and I may be held liable if I fail to save the world from catastrophe. I’ll not have the results of that error on my shoulders again).
To protect myself from these gauzy offenders, I always hold articles of clothing up to the light – if I can see through the material to the other side then it goes back on the shelf. On the one hand, this has been brilliant as I save money on clothing myself. This money can then be spent on video games and everyone knows you tend to play video games better when you haven’t got clothes in the way to slow you down. Am I right, Internet? But on the negative, it means that I often have trouble finding new clothes and end up settling for the ‘local hobo’ look.
On a recent outing into the shopping mall war zone, despite its slow walkers, loud children and zombie-minded fools who walk before they look (obviously looking for free power hugs as I slam into them at full loved-up intensity), I decided that the time was ripe for trying on pants. All I wanted was a pair of black pants. Black isn’t a light colour. Black shouldn’t show my underwear. Black pants would disguise my underroos and allow me to dance in LED lighting without fear of exposure.
Black? Black!? I thought we were friends black!
That’s my happy, smiling face taken THROUGH a pair of black pants (though not while I was wearing them). The camera is on the inside, my reflection in the mirror is on the outside.
Should I have wanted pants that allowed me to show the world what was on the inside of my trousers I would have bought these up in a second! If the world must see my atrociously unsexy knickers then this is the very vessel with which to illustrate their glory. Come hither and bask, o ye lucky fools! Like a display cabinet filled with curiosities, these pants will allow you to see what lies beyond before you buy me a drink (but if you buy see-through pants, never buy see-through underwear. No one should ever be allowed to know that much about someone when buying them drinks – ladies and gentleman, retain your mystery!).
Alas, alack, this effect was undesired and at the sacrificial price of $45 it seemed more of a foolish hope on the stores behalf than an effort to sell merchandise. What slight-in-the-head chump would think that it’s reasonable to hand over forty-five of your hard earned cashdollars for pants that don’t perform their pantly duties properly? $45 can buy many things and a pair of see-through pants should never top your list.
Things that are Worthy of $45:
- 2 hotdog dog costumes
- 1 Magical Unicorn Mask with change for some authentic unicorn poop soap
- A copy of Bombproof Your Horse
- 150 McDonald’s soft serve ice-cream cones
- Tickets to your local zoo to watch the delightful meerkats prance in the sunlight
This isn’t an isolated incident. This isn’t the first pair of translucent trousers I’ve encountered. I know it gets hot in Australia but when it becomes too hot for pants current conventions dictate that pants are merely removed, not replaced with emaciated shampants. I think I’ve been patient so far but, like my tolerance for people in shopping centres, my tolerance for shamwear is at an all time low. So, on behalf of all barely covered consumers, I formally request that thread-bare clothing be cast into local fiery hellpits and generously threaded attire be issued in its place. Preferably with dinosaurs on them.