Sunday, June 26, 2005
two popes walk into a bar...
warning: probably a boring post for the guys to read, though there is mention of boobs and lingerie at the end.
today...I went shopping. My high school reunion is in less than a week, I need something PRETTY. Something that says "hey, maybe I should have dated her in high school...boy was I stupid." Something that will make up for the fact that I am probably going to have this conversation with someone at some point in the evening:
So, what do you do?
I'm still in school.
Oh. Do you have any kids?
No.
Married?
No. I'm in a serious relationship, though.
Oh, that's great! For how long.
A little over two years.
Wow. So you're engaged?
....umm...no.
Oh. well...where is he?
Umm...I didn't bring him, because I thought he'd be bored. So I left him with my parents...
Do you have a picture?
No.
riiiiiiiight...ok. hey, there's Tom! TOM! HEY, TOM!!
Right. So I need an outfit that will ease the pain of that conversation. So head off to the slightly less ghetto mall near me, where there was a Lane Bryant. Ahh, Lane Bryant: fashion salvation for fat girls.
I wander in, and already, it doesn't look good. Half the store looks empty. No "going out of business" signs, so I'm assuming I have hit the void that is summer shopping: to late for summer wear, too early for fall.
Crap. So I pick out a few things to try on. And I find a BEAUTIFUL red skirt. It's bright red, with shimmery flecks running through it, and a golden floral design. and a ruffle that runs down the front and around the bottom.
Excuse me, are there any tops that go with this skirt?
You know, we never got anything in for it! People keep asking, but nothing ever came.
Dammit. So now I'm wandering around the store looking for red. I also have a black silk dress that I already know won't fit me in the boobs, and a brown skirt with a gauzey beige blouse.
then I see it...a beautiful red lace sleeveless top...gorgeous...but it's on one of those torso manniquin hanging on the wall. I can't find any tops like it in the racks. The saleslady says it was a return, and it's the only in the store. MINE! MINE!!! She brings down the scary headless torso manniquin and removes the top. I try it on...and it fits perfectly. But...it doesn't really match the skirt. It's a different red. But now I'm thinking SCREW the skirt...I WANT THIS TOP! Now I'm scouring the store for another skirt, or maybe some really dressy pants. The sales lady is trying to convince me that the brown skirt I had on (for the other set I tried) looked great with it. I dunno...red and brown. It was a cute skirt, though...slim to the knee...with that little kicky flair out at the bottom.
If you had it in black..maybe...
Oh yes, we do!
She pulls out the black skirt and hands it to me...so BACK into the dressing room. But I can't zip down the zipper. It's totally stuck. I struggle with it for awhile, and give up. I can step into it and slip it up, though. Hooray! I check myself out in the 3-way mirror. Very sexy. Oh yes...this outfit...she will be mine.
I'll just pick up another one of the black skirts in my size...
But there is not another one in my size. God...dammit. Fine FINE...I'll take it. There's one at another mall that has my size. If I have time I'll exchange it. If not, I can still wear it with the fucked up zipper.
NOW comes the part I'm dreading...bra shopping.
Some of my bras are faling apart. Over stretched. Underwire poking out. Leeetle bit too tight. I need new bras.
I hate bra shopping. Whatever size I think I am...I'm not. So I pick out 5 or 6 bras in the size I bought last time...the size of the bra I WORE INTO THE STORE...and head to the dressing room...AGAIN! (by this point, my hair is messy...i'm sweaty, and my deoderant has worn off, because I've taken off and put back on my clothes 8 times in 30 minutes. this must be what it's like to be a prostitute) I stretch the bra around me, hook all the hooks. Seriously, how many hooks do I need? Pretty soon, bras will be full body suits with hooks all the way from your feet up to your nose.
And as soon as I hook the first bra, I realize that this isn't going to work. I look like a tube of toothpaste with a rubber band wrapped around the middle.
Clothes BACK on, back OUT to the sales rack...pick out some more bras the next size up.
(dammit....dammit dammit dammit. Maybe I should try to sneak into Curves a 4th time during the week...)
I don't get very complicated bras. I go for the underwire, of course. If I didn't have an underwire bra on, I would scare small children. But aside from a variety of pretty colors, plain underwire.
Now...I start eyeing the fancy bras. The scary ones. The big padded "push up and squeeze" bras. With the solid cups. That don't look like they'd even fit into my bra drawer. But...I DO need to look fabulous...
How boobagely gifted women try on a bra:
Take off own bra.
wrap new bra around you, and hook in the front.
ouch. try the next hook.
twist the bra around the right way.
try not to cry as the many tags stapled to the bra slice into your skin as you twist.
now put your arms through the arm straps.
now your boobs are at eye level, because the store always has the straps at the shortest setting
adjust straps.
inspect yourself. check for frontal quadraboobage, as well as backfat boobage. both of these are bad - if found, reject bra
bounce up and down a little...does anything fall out? if yes, reject bra.
wiggle around...anything poking you? if yes, reject bra.
bra passes test. ok...that's ONE. now do it all over again...with EACH BRA YOU PICKED OUT!
ps: this is why I sometimes HATE small chested women. "oh, I don't even HAVE to wear a bra most of the time!"
*THWACK!*
bitch.
I bought four bras. Two of them are the cleavage enhancing scary bras - one black, one white.
Excellent.
// ranted by evilsciencechick @ 6/26/2005 03:49:00 PM
today...I went shopping. My high school reunion is in less than a week, I need something PRETTY. Something that says "hey, maybe I should have dated her in high school...boy was I stupid." Something that will make up for the fact that I am probably going to have this conversation with someone at some point in the evening:
So, what do you do?
I'm still in school.
Oh. Do you have any kids?
No.
Married?
No. I'm in a serious relationship, though.
Oh, that's great! For how long.
A little over two years.
Wow. So you're engaged?
....umm...no.
Oh. well...where is he?
Umm...I didn't bring him, because I thought he'd be bored. So I left him with my parents...
Do you have a picture?
No.
riiiiiiiight...ok. hey, there's Tom! TOM! HEY, TOM!!
Right. So I need an outfit that will ease the pain of that conversation. So head off to the slightly less ghetto mall near me, where there was a Lane Bryant. Ahh, Lane Bryant: fashion salvation for fat girls.
I wander in, and already, it doesn't look good. Half the store looks empty. No "going out of business" signs, so I'm assuming I have hit the void that is summer shopping: to late for summer wear, too early for fall.
Crap. So I pick out a few things to try on. And I find a BEAUTIFUL red skirt. It's bright red, with shimmery flecks running through it, and a golden floral design. and a ruffle that runs down the front and around the bottom.
Excuse me, are there any tops that go with this skirt?
You know, we never got anything in for it! People keep asking, but nothing ever came.
Dammit. So now I'm wandering around the store looking for red. I also have a black silk dress that I already know won't fit me in the boobs, and a brown skirt with a gauzey beige blouse.
then I see it...a beautiful red lace sleeveless top...gorgeous...but it's on one of those torso manniquin hanging on the wall. I can't find any tops like it in the racks. The saleslady says it was a return, and it's the only in the store. MINE! MINE!!! She brings down the scary headless torso manniquin and removes the top. I try it on...and it fits perfectly. But...it doesn't really match the skirt. It's a different red. But now I'm thinking SCREW the skirt...I WANT THIS TOP! Now I'm scouring the store for another skirt, or maybe some really dressy pants. The sales lady is trying to convince me that the brown skirt I had on (for the other set I tried) looked great with it. I dunno...red and brown. It was a cute skirt, though...slim to the knee...with that little kicky flair out at the bottom.
If you had it in black..maybe...
Oh yes, we do!
She pulls out the black skirt and hands it to me...so BACK into the dressing room. But I can't zip down the zipper. It's totally stuck. I struggle with it for awhile, and give up. I can step into it and slip it up, though. Hooray! I check myself out in the 3-way mirror. Very sexy. Oh yes...this outfit...she will be mine.
I'll just pick up another one of the black skirts in my size...
But there is not another one in my size. God...dammit. Fine FINE...I'll take it. There's one at another mall that has my size. If I have time I'll exchange it. If not, I can still wear it with the fucked up zipper.
NOW comes the part I'm dreading...bra shopping.
Some of my bras are faling apart. Over stretched. Underwire poking out. Leeetle bit too tight. I need new bras.
I hate bra shopping. Whatever size I think I am...I'm not. So I pick out 5 or 6 bras in the size I bought last time...the size of the bra I WORE INTO THE STORE...and head to the dressing room...AGAIN! (by this point, my hair is messy...i'm sweaty, and my deoderant has worn off, because I've taken off and put back on my clothes 8 times in 30 minutes. this must be what it's like to be a prostitute) I stretch the bra around me, hook all the hooks. Seriously, how many hooks do I need? Pretty soon, bras will be full body suits with hooks all the way from your feet up to your nose.
And as soon as I hook the first bra, I realize that this isn't going to work. I look like a tube of toothpaste with a rubber band wrapped around the middle.
Clothes BACK on, back OUT to the sales rack...pick out some more bras the next size up.
(dammit....dammit dammit dammit. Maybe I should try to sneak into Curves a 4th time during the week...)
I don't get very complicated bras. I go for the underwire, of course. If I didn't have an underwire bra on, I would scare small children. But aside from a variety of pretty colors, plain underwire.
Now...I start eyeing the fancy bras. The scary ones. The big padded "push up and squeeze" bras. With the solid cups. That don't look like they'd even fit into my bra drawer. But...I DO need to look fabulous...
How boobagely gifted women try on a bra:
Take off own bra.
wrap new bra around you, and hook in the front.
ouch. try the next hook.
twist the bra around the right way.
try not to cry as the many tags stapled to the bra slice into your skin as you twist.
now put your arms through the arm straps.
now your boobs are at eye level, because the store always has the straps at the shortest setting
adjust straps.
inspect yourself. check for frontal quadraboobage, as well as backfat boobage. both of these are bad - if found, reject bra
bounce up and down a little...does anything fall out? if yes, reject bra.
wiggle around...anything poking you? if yes, reject bra.
bra passes test. ok...that's ONE. now do it all over again...with EACH BRA YOU PICKED OUT!
ps: this is why I sometimes HATE small chested women. "oh, I don't even HAVE to wear a bra most of the time!"
*THWACK!*
bitch.
I bought four bras. Two of them are the cleavage enhancing scary bras - one black, one white.
Excellent.
