Girls Night Out

Girls have secrets. Many, many secrets.

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If you go to one of those churches where they use this phrase “womanly ways”, that’s what I’m referring to. Now, some of our tricks are more obvious such as when we laugh at a guy who is not funny and yes, ladies, you know what I’m talking about. Other tricks of ours, are not obvious at first.

Take yesterday for example. Do you remember that roommate who I had a tiff with over my use of her mixer? We’re like besties now. We hang out and I talk and she listens and then says a sentence and then I talk again. No, really, she is a super cool person. I’m glad I didn’t completely write her off. And yeah, when my chipmunk brain decides to come down from the tree I will be happy to write about it but as it is, a leaf moved, and my day is now booked solid.

I think she became my friend after I had a breakdown when I got back from the hospital and dramatically told her my whole life story. I was having a bad day. And they gave me painkillers. A lot. Of painkillers.

Regardless I texted her the other day and I said “Hey want to hang out?” And she said yeah but didn’t have any ideas and I have this thing I’m working on in therapy, being more comfortable with my body and “womanhood”. So I was like “Let’s go to the mall and go to VS.”

I am super self-conscious about my chest. One of the girl secrets I’m divulging today is that a girl cannot “win” in the chest department. I am going to give you 7 deadly facts about why that is.

Fact 1. Many men do prefer larger breasts for their own tactile reasons- which women with smaller chests are constantly reminded of by the playboy magazine mascots who spent the money that could have turned over this nations economy on “self-improvement”. So that’s not cool with them.

Fact 2. However, larger breasts are less sensitive than smaller ones which, if that rumor gets out, all the sneetches who were running to the build-a-bombshell factory will need to rethink their life and switch their “wardrobe” again. Society is bipolar and possessed, kay?

Fact 3. Extremely large breasts have a tendency to reach out and catch things like popcorn on a movie date or really anything at the most inconvenient times. It’s like a magnetic pull that you not only going to spill food on yourself but that it is going to land deadcenter and you are not ever going to find it all. So in other words the popcorn is moving in with you. Hope you like movies with a lot of soundeffects, Monroe.

Fact 4. Extremely large breasts are a ticket to the free public humiliation show when one has to bend over to pick up a pen in front of someone who is not your curve-lovin S.O. The smart comments people give a woman with a big chest sheesh. But I do have to shoutout to Queen Latifah and Jennifer Coolidge for OWNING it. Love those empowered, gorgeous gals. M. So amazing.

Fact 5. When a woman has a flatter chest, she’s self-conscious about it.

Fact 6. When a woman has a big chest, she’s also self-conscious.

Fact 7. I am convinced that Victoria the maid murdered Ms. Scarlet in the bedroom with the pushup bra

Fact 8. Welcome to the CultImage result for Victoria's secret store

When you walk into Victoria’s Secret you will no doubt be ambushed by a salesgirl with perfectly applied cosmetics, perfect accessories, and the perfectly highlighted hair. In fact, if she wasn’t here to be your Obi wan of le Chochotas you would hate her. And she draws you into the store for your initiation.

For those of you who don’t have an abusive, salacious, long-term relationship with the lingerie section- Victoria’s Secret stores have 2 sides. One is all done in black and white and all over are “models” of perfectly contoured feminine silhouettes strapped up in every type of lingerie you can imagine. I do have to say though, that VS doesn’t do the spicy stuff as well as a sex toy store. #advicefromamodernmormon. The floor is marble with gold fingers trailing through the streaks of black and grey, flecks of hard silver flecks spark to life in the shifting lights above. Velvet whispers of accents line the dressing rooms. The walls are hard, shining black, and just above the undertones of passionate red and salacious pink you can see in highlights that streamline the black walls and bejeweled cupboard, there languish dramatic black and white photos of tragic -looking women who are baring their soul to you through the sparks in their dark, mysterious eyes. And the other side is PINK which is about as innocent as it sounds which is in shades of pink, white, and blue with white drawers that are basically every teenage girls underwear drawer ever. You have to fight that drawer to get it “almostly” closed. I have to be honest PINK is my section but only because they have sexy sports bras with a lot of straps and as we mentioned before I am into torture. That’s why I’m so good at college.

Story break- Last time I tried to go bra shopping alone- and for me that’s a trauma thing because I tend to avoid the fact that I have a chest and that I occasionally need a bra that is not a Fa Mulan’s LittleHelper- a salesgirl in the BLACK section of the store was so friendly and she was like “Hi! Can I help you?” And I reacted. like this.

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And of course that was the mature, adult thing to do. But see, I don’t join cults on Tuesdays.

Let me continue with initiation into the cult. (I did this on a Monday, FYI)

When you do enter Victoria’s Secret the phrase “May I help you?” Is the keyword. If you say yes, the salesgirl knows you are in on it and she brings you in to the store. She walks by the bras you show the slightest interest in and tells you the secrets to the perfect bra. She offers to help you with a fitting which is a rather fiendish trick because the word fitting implies innocence and simplicity.

There is nothing innocent or simple about the art of seduction.

The more appropriate turn of phrase would be going to war. And not just because I love me a little drama (though I do), every woman who has ever shopped for lingerie knows what I mean. However for our purposes *because I talk too much* the term “fitting” refers to taking measurements of one’s body in key focus areas (aka very awkward areas) because unlike the one-size fits all tata towel, women aren’t all built the same. When we go looking for a bra part of the reason we require the Obiwan of le Chochotas is because women’s intimate wear is complicated. TBH I think that the sizing system was one of Lucifer’s pet projects down in hell and now he’s gone public.

See when you’re trying to fit a bra your first obstacle is size. See, it doesn’t matter what kind of bra you want if all those other 36B hos got to it first. So you need to know your measurements, hence the fitting. But even once you have a fitting, have a look at this women’s bra sizing chart.

I speak Chinese. And guess what, learning Chinese is easier than reading one of these charts and remembering your size when you’re faced with row upon row of hells very own lingerie factory rejects.

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Look at all these foreign symbols and rows! What could it even mean? See and in Asia they use the sensible centimeters. In Europe they have their own numbers for the same size as the US does. And America does this traditional thing called “winging it”.

Oh and did I mention sizing things like “plus” or “plus plus” or “ultrapetite” or “superultrapetite”? No, no I didn’t. Because I can already see brain fluid leaking out of your ear from being exposed to this mind-blowingly confuzzling chart.

So young Padawan, I hope you brought emergency chocolate to Victoria’s Secret. IDK if you noticed but a lot of stores have little magnum chocolate kiosks next to the intimates section. That’s called being prepared. So choco up and let’s go.

Every bra she hands to you is going to promise to be your best friend.

“I swear I will never ride up when you reach up to grab something.”

“I swear I’m not like those other bras, I will actually hold the luscious in.”

“Girl I swear I can wick sweat”

“He’s going to love us together. I feel totally real.”

“All of my clasps will meet up easily when you reach behind your back to clip up.”

“I swear my front clasp will never pop open, seriously girl, why would anyone do that to you? You deserve better.”

“Girl my lace will never catch on anything.”

RIIGGGHHHTTT, so if I pull out my Bible, you still gonna swear that?

And you hand that strappy little liar straight back over to the legions of lying lingerie from hell to be with her witchy little friends.

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Oh, and that friend you brought who came to support you in the sistahhood? She’s there too. But is she really on your side? Nah. She’s already in the cult, she knows these bras, and she knows she needs to sell you over so you can both rake in an Angel Card. Oh and if you mention this phrase at any point in your initiation “spice it up”, well, that was a mistake.

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I said sex toy stores have better stuff. I didn’t say VS had nothing, boo.

(though Sensually Yours does have a bomb rainbow unicorn lingerie costume I would sell my soul for if not for the whole don’t join cults on Tuesdays policy, which includes joining the legions of darkness. Darn, maybe Thursday)

Next thing you know, she is going to “help you”. She is going to reiterate that bra’s promises to you. She is going to encourage you to “try new things” and “think sexy, in a new and exciting way” and heck, she might even explain to you that there just so happens to be a sale on the fluorescent hot pink cheetah pile of straps your friend just handed you through the door.

And you’re going to be humiliated. You’re going to be frustrated. You are going to rethink your life. You are going to choke yourself in the straps of at least one of the bras and get lost in at least two others. This is a life-changing experience. You came in here thinking that you were just buying a bra, but that is not the case. You are now the cult.

And, dizzy from lack of oxygen and the euphoria of promises and daydreams, you say “I’ll take them all”. On the way out through ringing ears you will hear an voice from on high ask if you would like to apply for an “Angel Card”. And of course, you would because I am pretty sure female diplomats use those to end wars. Victoria’s Secret is just that good at her job. And you say “You know what? Sure.” And you walk out with your bag full of goodies, a new, rejuvenated sex goddess.

Albeit, a dizzy, stumbling, slightly traumatized sex goddess.

And when you get home and pull the receipt out of the bag, you hold it in your hand, and you have that moment when you do another quick rethink of that life. And your budget. And all the things you should have been doing instead of shopping. And you realize, hey, I only got one life. And the moment right after that is the moment where you pop open a bubbly soda and think what the h, I’m a woman, and this is what we do. We start wars, we finish them, and we still look fabulous AF while we’re doing it.

I love happy endings, don’t you? ❤ #strugglesofbeingwoman

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Just remember girl, you’re doin’ fine. You do you, boo. And don’t walk out of that cultist store with the hotpink cheetah strappy thang unless it really is your thang. Just because you belong to a “cult”, doesn’t mean you can’t still be yourself lol.

OH And because I am awesome I’m going to share some fun stuff we saw at the mall besides the rainbow unicorn hat and tail. (not telling you where we found it, it’s a trade secret,)IfIwasn’talwayswearingatiara….theoneontherighttwouldbemine.

Also I don’t know why but whenever someone over here tries to be a “white girl” they always pretend to order a pumpkin spice latte. Did pop culture not invite me to the incrowd party again or is it like some hocus-pocus fall thing?

And the shellphone. SHeesh if I wasn’t an android user… 😦 😦 😦 But yeah, good night, I had so much fun and it was soo amazing.

And then I had to go back to reality and I cried. The end.

 

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