Dear Male Readers >> This column is about ladies’ undergarments. So, if this topic alarms you, turn back to the sports pages and we’ll see you next week.

Ladies, now that the annoying men are gone (you are gone, right?), we can dish. I was going through my undie drawer recently, preparing to pack for my trip to Egypt, and I found some strange articles of clothing.

I found this satiny garment that seems to have gone around my waist and then fallen down to my thighs, sort of like a skirt. Only thinner. Something makes me think this thing might be called “a slip,” but I’m not sure.

I think ladies once wore these, back in the days when they cared whether people could see through their outer clothing. Nowadays, these kinds of frilly underthings are outer clothing, at least to people less fusty than myself.

Trust me, absolutely no one wants to see me in a camisole — not even my dog — unless it’s been dipped in liver pate.

Last year, I paid a mint for my beautiful daughter, Curly Girl, to buy a wedding dress with a top that looked strikingly like a boned corset that Queen Victoria might have worn — under three other layers of clothing.

When she announced to me she wanted this kind of corset top, I was at first concerned that it might reveal too much, until I realized that the designers conveniently sewed in pieces that covered the most naughty bits. Whew.

Anyway, back to going through my drawers, literally and figuratively, I came across more arcane garments that I haven’t worn in decades. They are called pantyhose. Remember those?

I definitely feel like a vintage antique when I remember what a fabulous invention they were at the time, one that made us all gasp with wonder and awe.

See, young ’uns, back in the olden days, women had to wear stockings, also known as hose, to be considered respectable. But in those days, stockings came in a pair and you needed something to hold them up, so you had to buy a garter belt. Yes, those things that nowadays you can only buy at Frederick’s of Hollywood.

The problem with garter belts came when everyone started wearing miniskirts because it was hard to keep the tops of your stockings from showing when your skirt was only 1 millimeter long.

The good thing about garter belts was that if you got a run in your stocking, only one was ruined. The other was fine.

When the miracle of pantyhose appeared, they did away with the annoyance of garter belts, but when you got a run, you had to throw the entire pair away. Unless you were a complete cheapskate, in which case you cut off the ruined side and saved the other to wear later, when you had a second half-pair.

Pantyhose even came in these silly little egg-shaped containers called L’Eggs and, by law, everyone had to buy them. I have no idea why. But it was a legal requirement.

Pantyhose had the added benefit of making your legs look tanned and sexy. But the disadvantage was being hot and — if you happened to accidentally buy a too-small pair — they would slide down your waist until the crotch was at your knees, impeding your walk. So you’d have to go into the powder room and tug them back up seven or eight times a night.

This built muscles, but you ran the risk of the waiter taking away your dessert before you finished eating it.

My daughter went bare-legged to her wedding, as a sign of how obsolete pantyhose are now. One reader wrote to me that of course they’re irrelevant, because “how could anyone see your new pedicure?”

Every time I’m planning a long trip, people recommend to me that I “bring old underwear and discard them along the way.” The idea is that then you have room in your suitcase for souvenirs. The problem with this suggestion is that I only have old underwear, so if I threw them away, I’d be reduced to going commando.

I recently discovered that my daughter wears thong underwear. I admit I don’t really grasp the concept of these. Can you explain them to me? They are so tiny that they look like they should be worn by baby gerbils.

People tell me it’s because then you don’t have VPL — visible panty lines. But they just look uncomfortable.

OK, guys. You can come back now. I’m done. Next week, we’ll discuss men’s underwear. Actually, no, we won’t, because I don’t know much about them. Except that they are often strewn around my son’s floor.