Why does it matter if people see my VPL?

JESINTA Campbell was so worried about “visible panty lines” on the red carpet that she ditched her undies altogether. She shouldn’t have cared.

Silver Party 2016

I DON’T want to alarm you, but back in 2012 Jesinta Campbell was about to walk the red carpet at the Logies and she realised she had a, brace yourself, VISIBLE PANTY LINE!!!

*horror sting.

So she took her undies off and went commando, hiding said Reg Grundies in her clutch. I know this because the horrific incident was this week retold on the Today Show, and I took notice, not because I find it in any way interesting that Jesinta Campbell attended a black-tie affair without any knickers on. That’s not really news. From my fairly limited experience with such occasions, ladies suffer all kinds of humiliations in order to look like a more glamorous and less comfortable version of themselves. For myself, I generally rock a pair of Spanx, an elastic vice arrangement designed to scaffold my skinfolds, and give me possible brain damage from lack of oxygen. But that’s the price you pay when you’re a cheese-addicted 40-year-old with an arse like a half-deflated airbag.

Jesinta Campbell told a story about ditching her underpants at the Logies on The Today Show.

Genetically blessed Jesinta has no such concern, and so her secret garden floated free, thereby saving us from the DISGUSTING spectre of the VPL. Here’s where my interest was piqued. I too, on occasion, have obsessed over the outline of elastic on my buttocks, although for me it has been less about wearing a frock that is tighter than a compression sock, and more about the leggings I wear for school drop off (you know, the ones you put on to try to convince yourself and everyone else you’re going to the gym, but then it gets to 4.30pm and you’re onto your second Sauv Blanc and you just have to let it go for the ninth day in a row).

Until I had an impromptu chat with my seven-year-old daughter, Willow.

Children have a way of shining a light on the absurdities of life with their innocent questions. Like the time Willow responded to my telling her that, in Australia, her aunt wasn’t allowed to marry her girlfriend with a “that’s stupid and mean. Love is Love.” Word, kid. You preach like it needs to be told.

The author with her daughter, Willow.

Similarly, Willow put me to shame when she saw me wearing a pair of G-string undies. The interrogation went thus:

Her: Why do those undies go up your bum?

Me: They’re G-string undies, they’re supposed to go up my bum.

Her: Like a WEDGIE?

Me: Well, yes, like a wedgie.

Her: They look CRAZY! Does it hurt?

Me: Sometimes.

Her: So why do you wear undies that go up your bum?

Me: It stops you being able to see the outline of your undies through your clothes.

Her: Why?

Me: Because the material goes between your bum, not over your bum.

Her: Not how, why? Why does it matter if you see the outline?

Boom. Never a truer point was made. Why in hell does it matter if people see my VPL, or, because all Aussie women hate the word panty, I’ll create a term of our own — Obvious Undie Dent? I mean, what exactly is the crime? Let’s break it down.

We can see you’re wearing undies? Well, other than Jesinta’s apparent flouting of the most basic of dress codes (even Kindergartners understand knickers aren’t usually optional), I assume and/or hope that around 90 per cent of the people around me have managed to pull on some pants. So to see evidence of the elastic is not just unsurprising — it’s comforting. The threat of being confronted with a wayward vajayjay at the next gust of wind plays havoc with my anxiety. The world seems a safer place when I know everyone’s lady bits are tucked inside a Bonds cottontail.

Or is it the cushion that I’m pushin’ that is so offensive? Does the dreaded VPL highlight that I’m more tush than trim? Sorry, not sorry. That’s as nature, and my love of lasagne, intended it.

So in the interest of comfort and not giving myself an episiotomy with my own G-string, I’m embracing the Obvious Undie Dent. It might give the impression that I have a butt like a chesterfield wingback, but that now feels entirely appropriate. Because it is SUPER comfy to sit on.