Over the weekend the girlfriend and I went undies shopping, and to the best of my memory it was my first time in a Victoria’s Secret.
I’ve had this thought before but yesterday solidified how happy I am not to be a woman. Sexism, childbirth, and ovulation but buying underwear seems like the biggest headache of them all. So many kinds! Its much easier being a guy when all I need is a piece of fabric to absorb my farts and I’m ready to go.
Lingerie is a fucking racket if I’ve ever seen one. Whoever convinced millions of women to spend upwards of $20 on an eye-patch worn between the legs is among the greatest robber barons of our age. My girlfriend and I are humble folk of meager means therefore we were picking over the sensibly priced undies, but some of this stuff looked like nothing more than re-purposed fabric scraps.
During our shopping excursion a lady and her pubescent son walked in. This kid impressed me because he was walking around reading a comic book (Black Panther!). I know if I found myself in a women’s underwear store at that age it would would have taken every fiber of my being to stop myself from brutalizing my dick in a masturbatory frenzy. However, a few moments later my admiration turned to pity because he was standing next to his mother while she was being measured for a bra. I can’t say with certainty I never accompanied my mother buying frilly undergarments but I was lucky enough not to remember.
After the gal picked out her bloomers we went to pay and it took fucking forever. There were two registers each occupied by morons monopolizing the cashier’s time while the line grew behind them. I am confident mortgages have been ironed out in less time than it took these broads to finish their business. Eventually they finished and we were able to escape.