Pants Off Dance Off

Pants-shmants!

Everyone that knows me, knows that I don't like to wear pants when I'm sitting around my house. Also if you know me, I've mooned you at some point for complaining about me walking around in my undies. I (usually) have a long-ish t-shirt on, so I don't see the problem.

These days instead of bothering my parents and younger sister with my pants-less-ness, I scar my nephews. I live in an apartment in my older sister's house. She and her husband have five kids. The older ones should learn to knock or just stay out of my apartment all together. The younger ones haven't seemed to notice, mostly because they don't like to wear pants either. My oldest nephew in particular has not only seen me sans pants, but has also barged into my apartment when I was walking around in my bra (I actually had pants on that day). You think he would have learned by now. The thing they should really worry about is that fact that I don't like to wear underwear once I put pants on. I try to remember to wear it when I have a skirt on. The gays seem to really appreciate the effort I've been putting forth in this area, as do most of my friends.

Why should I compromise my comfort for the well being of others? The answer: I shouldn't. If you have issues with other people's semi-nudeness, that's your problem, not mine.

I think it was a lot worse when I lived with my ex-boyfriend. We lived with his two sisters and one of them was married with two kids. Also, his best friend lived there too. He was a drummer in a band that was sort of popular around the Long Island underground scene. He always had musician friends and groupies in and out of the house. Back then, I was skinnier and in better shape, so I really didn't care, although the drifters were kind of put off. Like most of those people don't walk around their own houses half naked. Suck it up, suckers!

I also don't like wearing shoes. I wear flip flops from April to October. When I was a teenager my friends and I would wander the streets all day during the summer and I wouldn't wear anything on my feet. Thinking about it now, that was a pretty bad (and gross) idea, but I was a dumb teenager, so that's my excuse.

Coats and jackets bother me too. I never wear them. I don't care how cold or snowy or rainy it is, I refuse. They are nothing short of annoying. I can't drive when I'm all restricted with a big clunky coat on. It's so much more comfortable to just wear a hooded sweatshirt over whatever I'm wearing. If it's a fancy occasion, I just don't wear one at all. If you think about it, I'm walking from my house to my car and from my car to where ever, so what's the point? I'm only out in the cold for a minute. Besides, freezing your ass off builds character, or at least that's what my parents told me when they didn't want to rive me to school in the winter.

If it's any consolation, I always wear a bra.