Underwear and flesh flashing start early

Has anyone else seen the Huggies print or TV ads for the new “Little Movers” Jeans Diapers? They feature a toddler with a James Dean hairdo standing with his butt to the camera at an entertainment premiere. The child’s diapers are designed to look like the rear end of a pair of jeans. All eyes upon him, the tagline goes, “Make a little fashion statement.”

Pardon me, but (or “butt”) what the heck is THAT about?! When I last checked, weren’t diapers supposed to be worn UNDER clothing, not as a substitute for clothing? Junior exhibitionism tickets are going on sale ever earlier. Just why did Huggies come up with the concept of a denim-looking diaper complete with pockets and brand label? They know Americans are stupid enough to buy them.

Being merely fortunate enough to enjoy the availability of disposable diapers isn’t enough. Nope, we need to go one better in our quest to one-up the Joneses: Designer disposable diapers. Even though economic times are tight, there must still be enough  people with enough disposable income to invest in cutesy disposable diapers. Have we disposed of our minds?

I’ve got news for the purchasers: The Little Movers diapers are going to fill up just as rapidly as the plain white ones. They’re just likely to empty your wallet more quickly.

The Little Movers ad also illustrates the disturbing trend of America’s ever-increasing pride in self-revelation. Former “unmentionables” have become something everyone seems to want others to see and hear. Apparently, we can’t start early enough when it comes to instilling this value in our young.

I do not plan to jump on this bandwagon. For starts, it would require a massive underwear upgrade on my part, an expense I’m not prepared to undertake. As the owner of mostly past their prime, non-exotic undergarments, I have a civic duty to shield others from them.

For finishers, I would need a whole new wardrobe of low-rise waistband jeans and pants, as well as plunging neckline and thin-strapped shirts for display purposes. If I’m going to start a mobile flesh gallery, I want to be sure I do it right. My skin is also noticeably absent of tattoos, another pre-requisite for showcasing wayward flesh.

There was a time, in the more recent good old days, when not only decency, but one’s level of physical fitness presented a barrier to underwear and flesh revelation. Love handles remained tucked safely inside clothing, out of reach. Like turning a pan’s handle inward on a stovetop, it was done for safety purposes.

Unfortunately, this is no longer the case. These days, we’re bumping into a lot more of everything. Whether or not we want to. Everywhere we look. You can’t just look away, because turning from the left only reveals another revealing outfit to your right, on someone who is hanging out of it even worse.

A few years ago, I unwittingly contributed to the “let it all hang out” problem. I was working in downtown Kalamazoo as a probation officer, a half-mile’s walking distance from public safety headquarters and the courthouse. Dressed in a conservative skirt and blouse, briefcase in hand, I stopped by public safety on my way to court.

A truckload of construction workers drove by me as I exited public safety. “Whoo hoo! Check it out! Hot mama!” they catcalled and whistled. I looked around for the lustful object of their affection, but I was the only one in the immediate vicinity.

“What perverts!” I said to myself, glancing over my right shoulder at them. It was then that I saw it. The hem of my longish skirt riding atop my briefcase, my slip keeping it company. My right butt cheek was completely exposed. I yanked my skirt back down, but within a few steps it was back up. The friction of the fabric against the leather was causing it. I’d been half-mooning people my entire walk. Yikes.

Mine was the last-known case of fashion shame and the next-to-last case of documented slip wearing among women under the age of 85. I’ve started wearing jeans-looking adult diapers called “Big MOOvers.” In case I get the urge to make another fashion statement.


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