I didn’t wear underwear for five days

Many of you have seen the ‘I didn’t wear a bra for a week’ challenge, but this week I took it up a notch and went one better: I didn’t wear underwear for, well, not a week, but five days. Believe me, five days was long enough. While I imagined this challenge could be quite fun and freeing, it was exactly the opposite.

Here’s the run down of my atrocious few days going commando:

Day One: Happy days  

Okay, so Day One was kind of a cheat day because, since it was my day off, I didn’t leave the house nor did I leave my sweatpants. Just wearing sweatpants, having no underwear was kind of okay. It was a little hot, but other than that, it was not so far from normal.

I was still energized by the new found freedom of this challenge, and was still excited for what would the future would hold.

In an attempt to test my new below the belt freedom on the outside world, I went on a Pokemon Go adventure. I caught a few Pidgeys, a couple Rattatas, and other than a little sweat build up, it wasn’t so bad.

Oh, how naive I was.

Day Two: I’ve never been more aware of my crotch

Day Two was my first day out and about without underwear, and holy crap. I went to work and in my groggy state at 7:30 in the morning, did not think about how jean shorts would probably not be the best thing to wear while commando.

So, I worked a five hour shift at work, which includes a lot of walking and moving, with absolutely nothing on under the shorts.

It. Was. Awful. I was never concerned about anyone noticing – they didn’t– but the fact that I knew I was underwear-less kept me very, very aware of my crotch and I don’t think any human being needs to be that aware of their crotch ever.

Jeans are known to chafe people’s thighs on occasion, so just imagine what they could do on other areas of your body. When I got home, I don’t think I could’ve gotten my sweatpants on any faster.

Day Three: Underwear appreciation day

Day Three was a Saturday so another day at home. Keeping with my previous pattern, I kept the sweatpants on as long as I could, but eventually we had to leave the house and my miserable experiment continued.

By this point, I was very ready for it to be over. I wanted to feel the comfortable, snugness of my underwear, but alas, it was forbidden.

Also on Day Three, I noticed just how much wearing underwear stopped me from sweating and chaffing. I never thought I would ever say I would become appreciative of underwear, but, guys, I’m appreciative of underwear.

Day Four: Sweat up the wazoo

Day Four included another day at work, but this time I was much smarter and wore leggings. While the softer fabric did help, I still eventually began to chafe – damn you hem seams! – and once again sweatpants were my glorious rescuers once I returned home.

Another downside – the sweat. In Florida, where the average temperature is a sweltering ninety degrees Fahrenheit and the humidity level is somewhere around seventy to eighty percent, you sweat a lot and everywhere.

To say the least, it was really gross. Showers were my friend. Along with the sweatpants.

Day Five: The Last Straw

By this point, all I wanted to do was wear underwear. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I had dreamed about underwear. On Day Five, I was once again at work, and this time in another pair of jeans. Even inside, it was still hot, I still chaffed, and I vaguely considered faking sick just so I could go home and change into sweatpants again.

Alas, I did not and stuck through it. Don’t say I do nothing for the sake of journalism.

The day continued with a family trip to run some errands, which involved a lot of walking and a lot of complaining. By the time we got home, it was late into the evening, so I held on until bedtime to finally – finally! – put on some underwear.

So, contrary to my initial belief, this experience was not freeing. It was not wondrous like the hippies made it out to be. It was sweaty and uncomfortable and made me realize that underwear really is very necessary.

Don’t take your underwear for granted, ladies. Don’t make the same mistakes I have made. Don’t go Lindsay Lohan. Wear your underwear.