I promised you a blog post about unmentionables, and by golly, you’re going to get one. Guys, you can skedaddle now. Make last-minute changes to your bracket, read a manly blog, go tweet something… See ya tomorrow!
Okay, girls. It’s just us, right? (Hold on just a minute. I see you, Guy. So, I can’t guilt you into leaving, huh? Fine. Don’t blame me if your face turns red.)
So, I’d been putting off this inevitable VS trip for days now. Gabe was giving me grief. My mood was on the sour side. I was ruing the day I mentioned my undergarment situation to the world. I finally promised him I’d go Monday afternoon during Nina’s nap.
I know some of you have been wondering what the big beef is about Victoria’s Secret. What’s my deal? What am I so afraid of? Some of you feel my pain–and have pain of your own. Let me put this delicately (since you guys refuse to leave). Making me walk into VS is akin to making me sing on American Idol. Or entering me in a stick-shift driving competition. Or plopping me down in the middle of downtown and asking me to find my way out. Or putting me in a room full of slinky lingerie and bigger-than-life posters of voluptuous beauties and expecting me to feel good about myself.
I try to avoid places with such glaring reminders of what I lack. Oh, things like… money, sexiness, and enough something-something to fill out even the smallest bra. But I sucked it up, and in I went. Wowzers. That place is huge (Easton, if you’re local). I tried to act like a regular. I tried not to gawk. I tried to pretend I was just fingering the silky material and not worrying about the price tag. Why does everything cost $58?! Or $78?! Or hundreds of dollars??!
Do you know how stinking tempting it was to buy $21.58 worth of CANDY?! They had a NICE, unintimidating selection of candy. Or JEANS! Someone please help me understand why a lovely pair of jeans cost just $29.50 while a tiny piece of see-through fabric costs $87. Someone, anyone.
I approached the counter nonchalantly and asked where I might find a panty that would qualify as free (with my card from Jamie). She pointed off in the distance and said those would be the cotton panties at the panty bar (‘scuse me, what?) on the other side of the earth store. These panties were on sale–7 for $25. A no-brainer, you might say. EXCEPT that I sort of told Gabe I’d aim for something more than a cotton panty or 7. I casually surveyed the entire store, turned over price tags, tried not to gasp with horror.
Called Gabe. Uh, honey. There’s nothing here under $58. I can get lots of panties. They have a few, um, impractical ones at the cheap panty bar. Maybe I could get a few of each? He was most gracious. I painstakingly made my selections. I assured no less than 6 saleswomen that I was fine and that no, I didn’t need to be measured for a new bra. (I can think of NOTHING worse.) Made my purchase–8 pairs, grand total–$5.10. Not bad. Nearly as good as my thrift store deals.
And feeling inspired that I was still alive after my experience, I headed to Target where I perused the intimates clearance rack and bought 3 tops and a bottom for $17. Practice what you preach, Marla. No cringing. DO NOT think about how many gallons of milk you could buy with $17.
Sadly, it became apparent when I arrived home that I don’t really know what size panties I wear–at least not in certain styles. Three of them were keepers. Five of them would’ve fit Nina snugly. Sigh. I WENT BACK THE NEXT DAY. Yes, I did. And it was actually easier. And get this–when she rang me up, she was all confused. She blamed it on the computer, but how can I say this nicely? They didn’t hire her for her GPA.
The best part of all? Somehow, some way, I got $3.20 back on a gift card. Ha! Plus a gift card worth at least $10 and up to $500. I seriously thought about sharing the love and giving them both away on my blog, but then I thought, “What if it’s worth $500? Do you know how many la-la-la things I could buy there with $500?!” Yeah, at least four.
Here’s the plan, Stan. Come April 7, I’m swaggering into Victoria’s Secret, sauntering up to the candy bar and picking out $13.20 worth of pure sugar. And if my gift card should happen to be worth more than $10? Well, happy early birthday to my honey!
Gabe was speaking at a conference via Skype today at noon (and needed complete quiet), so Nina accompanied me to VS. She loved the panty bar. I promised her a trip to somewhere special when we were done. We walked out the door into the sunshine, me swinging my pink bag, and she said, “Now can we go to the FRIFF store?”
And go to the friff store we did. And I’m not telling you what I bought.