The Underpants/Spandex Debate

With the possibility of a spinning class in my near future, I have once again come to the debate of whether or not to wear underwear under my spandex... Let's discuss.

Now, in my early days of spandex, when I was just a wee 14-year-old, it never crossed my mind that spandex might be worn without underwear. Many a minute I spent worrying about panty lines, lumps and bumps, and the horrifying "double butt." (Medically known as Four Cheek Syndrome. FCS for short.) It wasn't until I met the acquaintance of one Miss Julia that I discovered that my liberation was just around the corner... All it took was four (technically five, but one's compounded) words:

"I don't wear underwear."

BRILLIANT!!! Not to mention that it was completely baffling that out of all of the girls on our crew team, this pastry-baking, cardigan wearing, miss manners would be the one going commando. (Love you, Jules.) There was no way I was going to let myself be outdone... the underoos had to go! Oh... and it was FANTASTIC... really it was! Less fuss, less thought, and more clean underwear in my drawer on any given morning. I also had the thrill of feeling almost naked for about a week, until I unfortunately got used to the sensation of running around in the equivalent to long underwear.

But then something happened... I started taking spinning classes, and I hit a speed bump on my highway of commando love. Let's see if you can figure out where I'm going with this... Most of my spandex experiences up until this point required sitting on a plastic square (rowing) or running around. One only has cheek-to-seat contact, while the other has absolutely no direct body part contact with any surface. Spinning however, brings a whole new player into the game: the bike seat.

Oh, the bike seat!!!! In addition to what it does to my tailbone, and how it butterflies my ass like a steak for all those behind me to see, the bike seat has the oh-so-wonderful feature of getting all up in your junk. While working for a urologist, I learned that too many hours on a bike can lead to temporary sterility in men... in other words... there's some HARD CORE contact going on. You starting to see where I'm going with this??? Thought so...

So, I'm sitting here, reminiscing about the beauty of undergarmentlessness, (I'm making that a word) and all the sudden I start thinking about how pissed I would be if the person on the bike before me were riding in just their underwear. (If you're not getting the full effect, try picturing William Shatner sweating profusely on a bike with just a pair of whitey-tighties... 'nough said. That bike would more than likely be shunned like the bus seat Dana J threw up on when we were in middle school.) I want the largest barrier possible between their goods and my bike seat... complete with antibiotics, antivirals, and anything else anti I can get. Who am I to talk, though?? Sure, I wipe down my bike thoroughly after every class... but all I'm wearing is over-priced, glorified underpants. And so it would appear that I have been, and continue to be, a total ass-hat to my fellow spinners.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I make a promise today. I promise to always wear underwear under my spandex on spinning days. I hope my compatriots of the black-light, stationary bike, fitness phenomenon will join me in this decision.

Love,
Katie

On another note: Today I ate an enormous bowl of coffee ice cream with whipped cream and caramel... it was like a gourmet frappuccino... mmmmmmmmmmm. My abusive relationship with ice cream will definitely have to be the subject of a future post.