Wrong Thong
Wednesday I started the ultraviolet therapy. They’re taking me up really gradually, so the doses I got this week were really short.
A few things I hadn’t actually thought about until we got started. One of them had to do with protective wear.
Although I’m getting full body exposure, there’s a few areas that we really don’t want to fry. Because of that my therapist told me to go out and buy a … damn, this is embarassing … thong. It never before occurred to me that there was any valid reason for those things’ existence.
I refused to put any real money into one of those things, so I went to Ross Dress for Less last night to locate the cheapest one I could. Wrong move. Most of them were totally unsuitable for a doctor’s office setting. Black or red lace featured prominently. In fact, I’m not entirely sure what purpose would be served wearing most of those. Most spider webs I’ve seen have more substance to them.
So there I stood in Ross’s, going through all the little undies hanging on their little undie hangers in the back of the store, hoping against hope that I’d find just one thong in basic solid white or basic solid black or basic solid anything that wasn’t lace and teeny satin roses. About half-way through the endeavor, an elderly oriental gentleman showed up at the other end of the rack and started looking through the underwear, one by one, heading towards me.
So I did what any self-respecting non-thong wearer looking for a thong would do. I fled. I hid out in the belts and gloves, occasionally spying over the scarf display to see if he’d left yet. After ten minutes or so, the coast was clear, and I headed back to the pantie rack to continue the painful process of finding the least onerous thong I could.
Within minutes the elderly oriental guy was back.
I grabbed a shiny violet thong with a little keyhole thingy in the back and took off. I have to hand it to my therapist; she didn’t bat an eye when I put that thing on for this morning’s session.
Damn thing should leave an interesting tan line.