So now, mere months after you told me how you couldn't live without the sentiment "I'm cuter than the cheerleaders" plastered across your bottom, you're treating them like this? Like...yesterday's underpants?
Here's what I'd like to see happen. Take off your jeans with whatever jeans-removing solvent you kids are using nowadays to remove clothing so tight it has become bonded with your skin. Spend a quality moment with your pants. Think about that stain on the knee from where you tripped in front of that really cute boy, or how you strutted by because you thought everyone was staring at your cute behind, but it was really toilet paper stuck to your shoe. Say good-bye to that note you scribbled in ball-point on your leg that will be lost forever in the wash (at least it had better be or you'll be spending your allowance on a can of hairspray to take it out). When you feel ready, put your pants lovingly into the hamper.
Then, and only then, remove the underpants. Perhaps you might snicker at the buttwit found thereon, or whisper a fond "until next time," as you lay them gently on the laundry pile.
The key here is that they are TWO separate pieces of clothing, each deserving of the respect and dignity of its own private removal ceremony.
If the problem is that, after a long day of being wrapped around your nasty teenage butt, you can't bring yourself to actually touch them during the removal process, all I can say is how the hell do you think I feel?
For the love of all things holy, when removing clothing - lift and separate.