I'm not Sharon Stone, I didn't forget to, and I'm not whispering seductively to you across a restaurant table while softly grazing your leg with my stocking-clad foot (does anyone actually do this?) - but I'm not wearing any underwear.
Today, on National Underwear Day, instead of an ode to the stuff, this is my poison pen letter. Because sorry, not sorry, I hate wearing it. And I know I'm not alone.
This is not by any means to say I dislike underwear as a concept, in fact, quite the opposite. As someone who was first in line for the V&A's 'Undressed' exhibition, has draws bursting with Agent Provocateur and knows all the Victoria's Secret Angels by name, it's safe to say I appreciate the art of lingerie.
But actually spending an entire day encased in it is a very different story.
For the most part here, I'm talking about knickers. If I were blessed with gravity-defying breasts, trust me, I'd be skipping the bras too - but for comfort, they're a necessity. As for briefs, those genital-swathing devils can do one.
Trust me, I've tried every style of underpants around and they all have their downfalls. Bunching up, riding up, showing up under clothes, causing bikini line friction burns (don't walk for two hours in cheap synthetic crochet). 'Hungry bum' syndrome is a legitimate thing, and any woman who does their squats can tell you that.
Compared to all the above, going commando is blissfully comfortable, freeing even.
My revelation first happened aged 17, upon discovering tights with built-in gussets, specifically, Primark 'control' tights, that I would wear under a wardrobe solely consisting of bodycon dresses with no worry of a VPL.
Thanks to the British weather, tights are a pretty much a daily wardrobe staple for me - thus, with a large enough reserve, eliminating the need for any knickers. Simply wash each time you wear, like you would a pair of pants, and Bob's your uncle.
Of course, there are exceptions to the rule. Very short or floaty dresses likely to be blown up by a freak gust of wind (I'm not an exhibitionist), trousers and jeans (plain uncomfortable without pants), and when I'm on my period (self explanatory).
To anyone who thinks skipping underwear is 'unhygenic', evidence points otherwise. It's widely known silk and synthetic underwear fabrics aren't breathable, increasing the risk of yeast or bacterial infections, and scientists are now saying you shouldn't even sleep in cotton panties.
Tight shapewear can cause nerve impingement and decreased circulation, and don't even get me started on the downfalls of thongs (it involves anus bacteria and it's gross af). Your lady parts need to breathe, people.
For me, elaborate matching lingerie sets are reserved solely for my boyfriend's eyes.
"But you should wear it for own pleasure" people cry, "what about feeling confident every day?" Sorry guys, but having to de-wedgie myself in the middle of a busy street isn't exactly a boost for the self-esteem (plus, if I ever get hit by a bus, I think I'd have bigger things to worry about).
In the end it all boils down to personal preference and being able to do whatever the hell we want with our bodies. When men go commando they boast it's 'liberating', so why can't women do the same without it being misconstrued as an act of titillation?
If 'I ain't got no panties on', I'm doing it for myself.