| Panti-Less in New York City by Kristen Houghton My doctor’s instructions for the yeast infection all women dread, were succinct and to the point. But what he suggested would make me re-think propriety and re-vamp my wardrobe. “Are you off the antibiotics you took for dental surgery? Good, then here’s what I want you to do. Take the medication exactly as prescribed. Call me if the symptoms aren’t relieved by the week-end, see me in a month…, and Kristen? One more thing-wear skirts and stop wearing panties until this clears up.” “You mean you want me to be like Britney and Lindsay?” I said jokingly. “Who?” My doctor is not into the gossip mill of celebrity antics so I explain just “who” they are and what items of lingerie they don’t wear. “Well, they’re probably better off,” is all he says, patting my shoulder and giving me two prescriptions. Now I am a pretty free-spirited person, at least I like to think I am, but the idea of not wearing panties under a skirt was a bit free-er than my spirit wanted. Even though I knew no one else, save my gynecologist would know there was nothing between me and a thin layer of material, I would feel like a walking ad for sex! Here it is, world, in all its glory, just waiting for a good breeze to blow! In the outer office I tell my husband what the doctor has recommended and he gets this strange smile on his face. I tell him to stop thinking with his libido for once; I’m fighting an infection here for God’s sake! In answer he squeezes my hand. The first day I put on a skirt with nothing underneath I feel weird. It’s not like I’ve never not worn panties, but that was usually under pants so as to avoid visible panty lines. I’m not a fan of thongs. I’d rather go “commando” than suffer with that damn dental floss going into places it has no right to go. But to get back to the skirt and being panti-less, I feel almost naked. Its summer and I have no skirt in my closet that goes below my knees. I walk past my cats and feel as if they’re staring at me. I think: they know! Being cats, they don’t care and, of course, they’ve seen me nude, but they know. As I come into the kitchen to grab a mug of coffee, my husband’s eyes follow my rear end like a hound dog on a hot trail. He grabs me and gives me more than his usual morning peck. “Sleep okay?” His voice sounds deep and throaty. Oh God! I sit at the table with my legs pressed primly together. Truth be told, I love wearing lingerie; doesn’t matter what’s on the outside, underneath I’m a silky girly-girl. This is more than likely a direct result of having gone, as a teenager, to a private academy where the idea of how proper young girls should dress meant uniforms that included not only bland skirts, slacks, and blazers, but plain, dull, white underwear, but that is another story. I see my husband gearing up for our usual morning jog. “C’mon honey. Let’s go,” he says grabbing a bottle of water. I tell him I can’t. I’m wearing a skirt. “Oh, come on! You’re not going to miss our jog, are you? We promised each other to do this. Besides, you play tennis in a skirt.” With panties attached to it I tell him. “Nobody will know you’re not wearing panties, except me.” Just the way he says it gives me a shiver. I am naked! Anyway, it’s not a sport skirt and I refuse to go jogging on the possibility that the skirt may bounce a bit more than I want, thereby showing what should be hidden. We compromise by going for a fast walk. My feeling that everyone will somehow know is totally groundless. No one even gives me a second glance. I’m just a woman out walking with a man by her side. It is strange but I have to admit I feel very exhilarated. Passing neighbors and strangers, I want to sing-song that “I have a secret and nobody knows it!” I could get to like this free feeling. My husband glances at me and winks. Between my body and the outside world is a cotton skirt which feels soft and smooth, rubbing against my skin. I feel a heady combination of sexy and….. slutty. I wink back. Women and " under"pants have a long history together. Through the centuries there have been some interesting stories about what women have worn...and not worn. The pre-pubescent Lindsay and Britney fans would be surprised to learn that those two aren’t the first celebs not to wear panties. A Hollywood story goes that Jean Harlow’s new maid, while putting away Jean’s clothes, went crazy looking for the beautiful lingerie she assumed Miss Harlow wore. Finally she asked the actress where her “undergarments” were only to be told by Jean that, ' “Oh, I don’t have any, I never wear panties. They’re too confining.” ' Diane de Poitiers, the famous mistress of two French kings never wore anything under her delicate court gowns. In her case it may have been more for social convenience; she was a mistress after all and never knew when or where the king might get amorous. Obviously the attraction of Diane “sans pantie” had passed from one generation to another. The two kings she serviced were grandfather and grandson! The idea of nothing under a gown but Diane was very alluring to be sure. It is rumored that Catherine de’ Medici of the famous Florentine Renaissance family, was unfettered down below because she wished her “come si chiama,” (Italian for "whachamacallit"), to feel refreshed and healthy at all times. So having nothing under down under is a time honored female tradition in a way. To wear or not wear panties is a very individual choice based on various needs or preferences. As the weeks go by, I find I truly like being panti-less in New York City and I’m pretty certain that I am not the only woman not wearing “something under.” I’m no longer worried that I may trip and expose certain areas to view. I feel free! There are distinct advantages too. My husband is happy and very attentive; he says just knowing what I’m not wearing is exciting to him. I feel sexier and a bit naughty, and I’ve come to enjoy the feel of a fluttery skirt against bare skin. And I have made a style change. I’ve even decided that skirts and being panti-less, coupled with high heels, are sexier than slacks with pretty lingerie underneath them. So a month later, when I’m back in my doctor’s office for a check-up and he tells me that I can now go back to wearing panties, I just smile and say nothing. I think of Diane de Poitiers, Jean Harlow, Catherine de’Medici, and the millions of unnamed women in history who chose to be free of constraint. As I pass by my doctor’s receptionist she tells me I look different. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. I’ve never seen you look so good or so happy. What’s your secret?” I smile again and give her a “who knows?” shoulder shrug. My secret is mine. Panti-less in New York City; who knew what freedom it would bring? *** Home Page Meet Kristen Book Information Articles Media and Links Calendar Publicity Photos Contact Info Copyright© 2008 Kristen Houghton. All rights reserved. This material was written by Kristen Houghton and may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed, wholly or in any part, without the express written permission of Kristen Houghton. Copyright also covers all material written by this author under the name CK Houghton |
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