A Christmas Shopping Experience

I posted this on a different forum a couple of years ago.  It’s about a Christmas shopping experience I had.  You might have learned that from the title.

The communal experience of Christmas shopping. Where the giving and sharing begins.. the giving and sharing of airborne diseases.

My lady was mentioning that she wanted a new bra, and so I thought that would be an easy gift to get her for Christmas.  Plus I thought it would be a great opportunity to go to Victoria’s Secret and creepily gawk at the sexy mannequins.  So strange how these things are in any way associated with the spirit of Christ.  Anyway, after obtaining the appropriate subjective information (white with no underwire), and obtaining objective measurements, (which probably could have been done by just checking her other bras, but I wanted to be very accurate), I felt well prepared to plunge into the maddening foray that is the mall on a December weekend.

I had been having a relatively decent day shopping at

VS mannequin

Totally innapropriate in the store.. unless it’s in plastic. I got her number.

the mall so far.  It was crowded, but I had seen worse.  I never felt like I was gonna abruptly find myself body-surfing and being pitched over the rail to the first floor, like I’ve felt in years past.  Yea recession.  I had to make some tough budgetary decisions.  Ladies, if you really think that you need to spend $75 on a tiny bottle of perfume, then you know nothing about men.

So I eventually made it to Victoria’s Secret.  Following the much-anticipated creepy gawking, and after marveling for some time about how so many items labeled “PINK” are actually green or blue, I set to the task of capturing the bra.  With the help of some courteous and pleasantly-scented ladies (hmm, I may have to borrow some money for that perfume), I was directed to three

VS execs: “Creation of body image insecurities?.. Check. Creation of color recognition confusion?.. Check. Next up, we’ll spell ‘PINK’ as ‘PINC’.. mwuhahahaha!!”

different bras that were white with no underwire.  Feeling sufficiently informed, I dismissed the attendants and began to compare.  As I inspected each one carefully, my eyes fell across the counter where parchment describing the bra lie.  At the bottom it read, “Swell Level 4: Extreme”.  Flustered, I struggled to maintain my composure.  My mind was already at the brink of exploding with bra information with colors and underwires and chest circumferences and cup sizes… SWELL LEVEL?!?!  Painful memories of blue jean shopping came flooding back with the endless cuts, colors, washes, styles—Aaahhhh!!

With the help of some deep breathing, I eventually got a grip.  I thought to myself, “Brad, you’re a reasonably intelligent fellow.  You can figure this one out

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!

with some rational thought.”  I tried to ignore the part of my brain that chuckled, “Yeah… rational thought has served you well in your marriage over the years.”  By the way, for those of you wondering how a guy married to woman for 10 years could not know about this, I will just say that I stopped trying to buy her clothes years ago because it turns out ladies are very particular about clothes.  And jewelry.  And perfume.  And, well everything.

Ok.  Swell level. . . I figured that the scale probably must range from “No Swell” to “You Can Rest Your Chin On Them”.  So now I had to decide how I wanted my lady to look.  Did

A VS model demonstrating a swell level. I think the level is “These are swell”

I want her to look like the mother of my three children?. . . or did I want her to look like the lady I made three children with?  I eventually stopped thinking selfishly and chose a bra that I felt was practical for her (I fought against the internal argument that extra “swell” would provide a great place to tuck an extra burp cloth for the baby”.

Following this experience, I got to thinking…If ladies can have bras with “Swell” levels. . . . would dudes be interested in purchasing underwear with variable “Bulge” levels?  Do I have a marketable idea here?  They would vary by tightness and padding.  They would range from “Low Bulge” (which would include a little extra padding to help the brother out), to “Constricted Boa”.  Of course, tighty-whiteys THAT tight would include a pouch sewn to the bottom to allow the seed-makers to breath.  The pouch could be made from different materials for the man’s comfort.  Cotton for the average man.  Feathers for the thrill-seeker.  Fur for the man-diva.  Brillo pad for the masochist.  I could open a male lingerie shop with a mysteriously sexy name, like… Alejandro’s Confession.  Am I on to something?…. Probably not.

Anyway, Merry Christmas to you all and have a fun and safe New Year!

Yes. Have a very sexy Christmas.

 

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