LMAO this morning (yesterday morning) while reading this post written by Eva at Wrestling with Retirement. I follow her blog because she's totally hilarious (and posts some of the funniest cartoons I've ever seen) but today (yesterday) she pretty much killed me. She wrote about Victoria's Secret and her new idea for a better business. All I have to say about Big Bootie Boutique is Amen, sister!
Mind you, I am a former VS shopper (you thought I was going to say model, didn't you?) myself . Well, not totally former. I still love all the stuff, it just doesn't look that good on me anymore. Ok, not that I ever, ever, ever, even kind of, sort of, remotely looked like Heidi Klum, (I'm only 5'2") but there was a time (I sadly reflect) that I didn't completely crucify a lace thong and matching demi push up bra.
These days, though, not so much. I'm aware that I'm not really the same size I used to be, and that's definitely fixable. Still, I'm not so sure I could lose all this weight and be a true VS girl again. I'm just not the same shape anymore. Things aren't where they used to be. You can only push 45-year old boobs up so far with mere underwire and gel padding. (Not to mention, the bra weighs as much as my winter parka; nothing like that to make you feel even fatter.)
Not that I've quit trying; don't get me wrong. I haven't resorted to granny panties (although sometimes I look at them longingly, the way we look at flannel sweats with penguins on them, not because we want to create an oufit, but because we can't imagine anything more comfortable on the planet.) But I'm still married - someone still gives a shit what my underwear looks like. And quite frankly, the minute I do try on the white/beige/nude cotton number, I feel twice as unsexy as I did just standing there naked. And at this point, I'll take all the sexy I can get, within reason.
[ Reason, FYI for all you VS catalog-reading husbands and boyfriends, does not include anything with bows on the butt, anything missing fabric over the midriff or other *ahem* parts, or anything that has rhinestones or other "precious simulated gems" sewn into it. The next time something like that catches your eye, stop. Do not hold up the picture to your wife/girlfriend and say "You would look so good in this!" That is not a real compliment. It doesn't incite a graceful, "Why thanks, baby!" I am more likely to look at you like you have two heads and say, "Dude. Really." Proof, I believe, that sex for men is not directly related to sexy. ]
Today, I have to add a little something to my thoughts on VS. After getting sidetracked from blogging, I went shopping for brown pants with my friend Kim. That was a bust, since we went after lunch and who in her right mind thinks that's a good idea? All pants shopping should be done first thing in the morning, following a night where nothing was eaten after 6pm. But I have a party tonight, and I have this sweater I love...I needed the pants.
After I tried on the ridiculously out-of-my-box, bright red, stretchy, totally fitted dress that for some unknown reason called my name from the discount rack, I gave up on the pants. I was obsessed with the dress. Which is really weird, if you know me at all. I'm not a dress person. I have calves that indicate I may have won Strongest Man in the World trophies at some point in the past. NO, they're not muscular, I didn't mean that. They're just huge. Enormously huge. Freakishly huge. I hate dresses.
But I bought it, the kickass red dress. In addition, I bought a full-body armor contraption that promises to corral my body into the dress (and hopefully, keep it there for the duration of the evening). This is not something you can buy at Victoria's Secret, I'm pretty sure. It makes simple granny panties the sexiest lingerie ever. I'm not brave enough to post the pictures Kim was taking of me in the dressing room, as she wet herself laughing, but let's just say if Teletubbies were still around, I'd audition to be the new one. The Beige Teletubby.
Tonight is the dinner that called for this dress and its accompanying bumps&lumps control unit. And I'm not so sure now, here at home, if I'm up for all that work.
Maybe I'll just wear my new sweater with black pants and hope no one notices.