It's been a couple years. Almost long enough for you to forget, and for everything to become normal again.
The first time when you woke up, and had to put on a thong. When you realised you'd gone from wearing boxers to wearing panties for the rest of your life.
The shock. The humiliation. The shame.
The strange feel of lace and silk and stretchingness around your hips. The gentle cupping between your legs. The wedgie -- but then you had so much more butt now.
And then, of course, there were the bras. You had breasts now. They bounced, they shifted, they jiggled, they drew the attention and gazes of men and women.
After that, they told you what your new life was going to be. The underwear, the
lingerie wasn't just going to be your private humiliation, your own personal indignity.
Oh no. You were going to be a lingerie model. The world was going to see you in them, be motivated to shop based on pictures of you, jerk off to pictures of you.
You were going to be an underwear model. Held up in front of the world, packaged as the epitome of feminine beauty and sensuality.
Day after day, putting on clothes to take them off in front of a crew of make-up artists, photographers and stylists.
Wearing just a bra, or a matched lingerie set, or just a thong with your hands covering the rest.
Like muscle memory, but the other way. You forgot what it was like to wear clothes, almost.
So when the picture is snapped, and the controversy begins, you realise -- you're in too deep.
You've forgotten what it was like to be a man.
Your butt is all over the internet.
What Inspired Me? That very picture, off the Instagrams. It caused a minor controversy and Lorena asked "What's the difference? I'm an underwear model. My butt is already all over the internet".
