I remember the first time I caught a glimpse like it was yesterday. It was the 7th grade Health class. On the surface I presented a well mannered, moderately popular, jokester dressed in a Spitfire shirt and cargo pants. Internally, I was a sexually frustrated shit head obsessed with porn and Chipotle. The teacher was preaching false propaganda on the merits of condoms and wickedness of drugs. Out of nowhere, the girl in front of me slowly leaned forward and revealed a frilly pink number peaking out of her Abercrombie hip huggers. That day my world was rocked and I became a man.
It kills me to admit it, but I haven’t seen good whale tail on a regular basis since high school. Sure, it has made occasional appearances in college, but not nearly as much as I had hoped. That’s what I get for going to school in the North East where women wore an average of 5 layers of clothing throughout the school year. Unfortunately, now that I am an adult living in the real world, at any given time my whale tail per week ratio is lower than my BAC.
Sure, my hormones have leveled off and the mystical sexual power of women has dissipated as I’ve been in relationships and gotten laid, but I still enjoy catching a good whale tail every now and then. It’s the spice of life that adds a little something to the day like Sriracha, finding 20 bucks in your pocket, or when your fuck buddy gets their period.
Case and point two days ago. I met up with some old friends in a bar to rehash old times while taking down some pitchers. During our umpteenth conversation regarding the never ending topic of which girl has gotten the hottest since high school, a group of coeds sat down across from us. Naturally, we all took stock of the new arrivals without missing a beat, and as deep cosmic poetry would have it, there it was, pink, frilly, and rocking my world. My buddies and I were shocked at the vintage whale tail this brave individual was throwing up. We all nodded to each other in confirmation of the we were witnessing, reveled in the nostalgia, and went about our day with a spring in our step and a smile on our faces.
From what I’ve gathered, the main culprit for the tail’s demise is the negative reputation it carries. It’s not hard to see how whale tail is often seen as trashy, but aren’t we as a society better than that? Have we not removed the negative connotations of female sexuality and put “slut shaming” on the ropes? If Caitlyn Jenner can win the woman of the year award, can’t we hold off judgement on women who show a little underwear? Considering the strides we’ve made in political correctness and social equality, how dare women be labeled with such degrading words as “slutty” and “skanky” for choosing to express their sexuality in such a way.
Truth of the matter is that guys are going to check out exposed lower back no matter what. It’s an unchanging constant of nature right up there with death and taxes, so having a little underwear showing isn’t going to change much. If Betty White were to fall out of her wheelchair in front of me, you know for damn sure I’m checking for whale tail before helping her back up.
So I’d like to get the ball rolling on bringing it back. It has to start from the top. On the next top fashion show we need to have models showing a little tail above their waist. Maybe we can get some help from the next T Swift music video. Ellen Degeneres could rock some with a pant suit to really bring some mainstream street cred. After that all we have to do is lean back and let the trickle down effect take over. It won’t be long before we’re all catching fresh tail on a regular basis..
Image via Shutterstock