Shop Talk

For the first time ever I struck out at the Victoria's Secret semi annual sale.

I found absolutely nothing in my exact size. Sure, maybe a few things may have fit a little less comfortably, but for the most part I came up with nil.

And what's with all the padding? I'm a fucking D cup. Why the fuck do you think I need padding? All that stuff does is push my boobs straight out of the bra, thereby defeating the purpose. Please, for the love of God, stop with the padding on the D's and DD's!

And people really annoyed me tonight. Granted, people on a whole annoy me. But more so at the sale.

Usually when I go to Vicky's there's always some perky blonde chick dying to get me into the dressing room to feel me up and measure me. I hate those people. Tonight, as I was rummaging through the bins, pulling out things that I might consider wearing. As I juggled these monstrosities that looked like they came out of a science fiction movie while going through the panty bin, not a single perky bitch offered me a little tote bag to carry them.

And there was this almost middle aged woman there going through the DD bins with some guy who I swear was wearing a mechanic's shirt with his name on it. I mean, that's all fine and good if some divorcee is going through some sort of midlife crisis and want to show off her man. Good for you for getting back into things, sweetie. But for fuck's sake, leave him at home when you're buying your bras! He doesn't care. He's just going to remove it from your sagging tits after five seconds, because, let's face it, this guy will fuck anything he can get.

And more importantly, he was creeping me out. I mean, he seemed to know a little too much about where to find the panties and the colors that would match and shit.

Waitaminute...who were those panties for anyway?

I left with nothing. I looked online to see what was available and was less than impressed. Oh well, at least I'm not like that lady that was on Oprah yesterday with her 25 year old panties.