I’m really beginning to hate underwear! As I’ve gotten older, my body seems to be saying, ‘‘Please, let’s just wear a muumuu with nothing underneath.’’ I have searched far and wide for underpants that don’t ride up or grab me and hold on like a vise.

I remember my grandmother wearing pink bloomers that seemed so large they could have doubled as a tent. She must have known something because I never heard her complain that they bothered her.

Bras are even worse. The underwire was definitely created by a sadist intent on leaving his mark on every woman who wears them. I can’t be the only woman who feels like this because the ultimate relief that most women seek is taking off their bra.

What if every woman in the world took off their bra at the same moment? You would hear a groundswell of happy sighs.

I don’t know if men have the same issues about their underwear. It might make for an interesting panel discussion.

What really amuses me is the latest plethora of underpinnings to hit the stores that are supposed to help you look thinner.

There’s the control-top half-slip aimed at slimming your waist, tummy and thighs. That’s a big order!

I know for a fact that if you have extra weight, all these garments do is push it to another area, making you look like a sausage that’s been tied in the middle.

There’s something called a thigh tamer. When did thighs need to be tamed? Do they come with a trainer and a whip?

If you are too thin, they have padded panties to give you a ‘‘bootylicious look.’’ I know I’ll never need those.

There are so many choices, but most are based on looks, not comfort. Maybe my grandmother had the right idea.

Her underwear didn’t control anything. It was just there, and she controlled it.

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