The front view

Back view

I have so many questions:

1.  Have boxers and briefs now become too difficult to put on?

2.  I know that women wear thongs to avoid panty lines. What is the reason why a man would wear this underwear?

3.  Why is it mono strapped?

4.  What kind of men buy this underwear?

5.  Why is his body so smooth and hairless?

6.  What does this mono strap thong provide that the regular ones don’t provide (except the discomfort)?

7.  Do straight men wear this?

8.  Does this thing stay on? And for how long?

9.  Does it fall off by itself

10.  Are there women who would want their men to buy this underwear?

I don’t know about the rest of you, but no, no, NO to my man wearing this. It’s so confusing and distracting, and not in a good way. But if you’re interested in this underwear, you can order it for yourself (or your man)  for the small fee of €22 (about $28 or  N4,200). Order it HERE.

So, I really want to know if any of my gentlemen readers would wear this thong?

P.S. Seriously, this man’s yansh is too smooth. Ah, ah!

The post Gentlemen, Would You Wear This Underwear? appeared first on Verastic.

The whole point of this C-String is that it’s great for those times when you just don’t feel like dealing with a waistband. I didn’t even know that waistbands were a problem. Where was I when people started hating waistbands and opting for this head band, ear muff-looking thing? All this time I have been wearing regular underwears – some thick and some thin – but mostly all from Victoria’s Secret.

And I have been so proud of myself because I have colorful underwears from a store that sells each for $9.50 and five for $26. I’ve been feeling pretty darn cool with myself. My only regret is that more people don’t get to see how colorful I am in the place where the sun don’t shine.  I especially love the ones with inscriptions. The other day I wore a green one that says “Hard To Get” and I showed it to Igwe, telling him, “In case you have forgotten, I am hard to get.” At this point, you should stop picturing me cloth-mooning Igwe. And any questions you feel like asking in the comment section about this underwear and Igwe business should not live to see my comment section.

Yeah. So when did we start hating waistbands? Someone needs to keep me abreast of these things. Apart from not having to deal with the waistbands, you also have the added perks of never having panty lines or tan lines. Not to mention, you can wear it as an underwear and as a swim suit (just in time for summer and the opening of our apartment swimming pool). Yippee!!! These are the problems that keep me up at night, and now, there’s finally a solution.

You can get your own C-String for $24. With $2 more, you can get five underwears – with glitter and inscriptions! – from Victoria’s Secret. Make that 7 underwears if it’s during their semi annual sale.

But if you think the front of this C-String is sketchy, wait till you see the back. Continue to see it.

Watch out, Summer 2012! There will be some Verastic butt cheeks on display at a beach/pool near you.

P.S. Am I the only one wondering what would happen if the back of this C-String mistakenly goes into the anal orifice? Just me thinking it? Okay, then.

The post I Want A C-String Underwear! appeared first on Verastic.

The mysterious thong … also known as “The accused”

Prior to this morning, I had more confidence that it wasn’t mine, but after I took a shower and looked with sheer surprise and cluelessness at about seven underwears that really belonged to me, wondering where they came from and if they really belonged to me, I have since begun to doubt my conviction about the mysterious thong. You see, about a month ago, I bought new underwears. The day I bought them, I washed all of them. I have since worn each of them at least once – I think.

Not being able to recognize the underwears that I bought only a month ago made me wonder: if I cannot recognize my one-month old underwears, then what is the chance that I will recognize this other thong from two or three years ago? But I’m almost certain that it belongs to Uju. I have brought it out several times and thought about wearing it only to put it back. What’s the worse that could happen? Would Uju’s two year old pubic hair be joined to mine? Would their union alter my DNA? Woud I become Uju? And if it’s not Uju’s thong but really mine, then have I punished my thong for nothing? It is fair to say that I don’t want to know the worst that can happen.

If this case were being tried in court where this thong was being accused of being my thong, this thong’s lawyer  (the defense lawyer) would say, “But Vera doesn’t wear thongs. Vera wears t-strings, so why would Vera own a thong?” And the prosecutor would say, “Yes, but this thong is in Vera’s size, and it was found in her drawer. Why would Uju’s thong find its way there? Unless there’s something you’re not telling us.” And then, the defense would say, “Object, Your Honor! Prosecution is badgering the witness!” Okay, fine. You’re right. That last part doesn’t make sense. I just wanted an opportunity to say that badgering the witness thing.

I’m not sure exactly what I or Uju would be saying during this time, but as you can see, I’ve given this court case great thought.  I say we all donate our services to this great cause. Who wants to join in and find out the real owner of this thong?

The post Will The Real Owner Of This Thong Please Stand Up? appeared first on Verastic.

I don’t know what all the hype is about, but I was listening to the Tom Joiner Morning Show this morning, and they kept talking about who they were going to kiss at midnight tomorrow. It was then that it dawned on me that I have never been kissed at midnight on New Year’s Day. I mean, what the heck? Before I continue, I must make a disclaimer: If my parents are reading this blog, then it should known that I, Vera Ezimora, have never, ever been kissed. Tufia kwa. I don’t even like boys. Yuck. Pee-eww! Now, as I was saying, whatever am I going to do at midnight tomorrow? More like, whoever am I going to kiss at midnight tomorrow?

The funny thing is that at midnight, I will be in church bringing in the New Year. And if you’re on my texting list, you’ll be receiving a text from me right around that time. So since I’ll be in church, I take it that it may be frowned upon for me to be kissing a boy — in the House of the Lord — during service — in the midst of a Nigerian congregation. Mm. You know your people.

Since I most likely will not be swapping spit at midnight, I do have another option, thankfully. In Mexico/among Mexicans, it is widely believed that wearing a red underwear into the New Year will bring you good luck in love. I only have two little big problems.

1.  Some say that you should wear the underwear inside out, and others say you shouldn’t. Which one should I do?

2.  Both of my red underwears are currently not wearable. One is not tight enough, and the other one is a t-string. Yes, Ms. Flow is flowing. I take it that a sanitary pad will not sit well on a t-string. What do you think?

By the way, two things you should keep in mind about the underwears in Mexico: (a) For prosperity and money, one should wear a yellow underwear into the New Year, and (b) These traditions – whether red or yellow underwear – are for women only.  Sorry guys.

It appears that I’m back to square 1. I probably won’t be getting kissed at midnight. And I can’t even wear a red underwear! Now that I think about it, I still have about twenty-four hours to get myself a tight-fitting red underwear. I can even make it better by buying a tight-fitting red and yellow underwear. Oh, yes. 2011, here I come!  In 2011, there will be love, prosperity, and money.

On a serious note, I actually declared 2011 my personal year of greatness. I thought of it one day and I decided that 2011 was/is/will be my year. I have not written one single New Year resolution. No need to. Things are different already. And from here on out, the only way is up. From my lips (fingers) to the ears (eyes) of God.

And thank you for all your support. For your comments, for your e-mails, for your phone calls, for following me on Twitter, for liking me on Facebook, for listening to, calling into and hosting the Verastically Speakin’ Talk Radio, and of course, for lurking around and pretending not to be here. I heart you more than you know. Soon, I’ll be better able to show my affection. Thank you.

P.S. I am very sorry to report this, but unfortunately, my VP of the month series will be starting in February 2011 (instead of January). I apologize for longer-throating you.

Happy New Year

The post Never Been Kissed appeared first on Verastic.

/

Picture of one of the actual naughty underwears

The post The Little Underwear That Could appeared first on Verastic.

The post It’s Over appeared first on Verastic.

I recently switched to boy shorts. My people, that was where my trouble started oh. Those boy shorts are big enough to be confused as booty shorts. In fact, they are sometimes called booty shorts, but of course, I wouldn’t wear them outside. I wouldn’t even wear a booty short outside anyway, so whatever. But why did I switch to boy shorts? The ones I found were coloful, and they looked comfy. But as I later came to find out, those underwears were just fine for nothing. They succeeded in giving me a wedgie every time. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to have a wedgie from an underwear that is almost as big as a booty short? Do you know? Oh, the horror!! Several times, I found myself standing in public places and wiggling around like I had something crawling on me. They were never the kind of wedgies that I could discretely pull out. They were always the kinds I had to stand in a corner where no one was looking, put my hand in the back of my pants (trousers) and pull the darn underwear down. Sometimes, I even said, “Forget who is looking. I can’t take this anymore!!” and yes, I dug in. It didn’t matter where I was…Walmart…on the street, church, bank, Best Buy…whatever!! Desperate situationes call for desperate measures, right? All this suffering for the sake of wearing a colorful underwear???

I went shopping on Monday, and I am now the proud wearer of hipsters underwears. No wedgies. No pafinga. They sit on my hips, so they don’t show when I bend over (which was another problem I had with the boy shorts. They were pretty, but I didn’t care for everyone else to see them when I bent over). The hipsters underwears are pretty too. They’re comfy. I have to admit that I am a bit psychologically bruised from having my butt cheeks hang out everywhere but inside the underwear they were intended to hang out in. Thank goodness for hipsters. I may need a Shrink to get over this one.

The post Wedgie Over Here, Wedgie Over There… appeared first on Verastic.