DH is staring at my crotch. I am standing by the bed, he is lying down, and we’ve been talking before bedtime. I realize his attention is elsewhere. “Where did you get that thong?” he asks, not moving his eyes. “Um,” I say, wondering what he’s talking about because we were not talking about thongs. “I’m not sure. At my fave department store, I think?” He’s still staring.

The thong is black, with a lace waistband and lace triangle in front, and is ever-so-slightly see through. Maybe he’s using his husband superpowers to see through the lace. I lean down to kiss him and kiss him again and again. He tenderly kisses me back. I am thinking, you can stare at me all you want, honey. And thank you, sexy thong that I didn’t even realize I was wearing.

I started wearing thongs because of my best friend. She has been wearing thongs for a millennium, and she is only in her 60s. My first thought was, put a string up WHERE? But like anything new, you get used to it. The biggest benefit of a thong over my standard hip huggers is a smooth rear end under my work dress pants. Men are going to look, so we might as well present the goods as flawlessly as possible. And I know they are looking, which makes me feel even sexier.

Sometimes barely covered is sexier than naked.