Monday, November 18, 2013

Cake, sashay, shante

Sometime in the past few days, the Victoria's Secret fashion show was filmed. I know this because every American media outlet  under the sun has been broadcasting backstage photos of Candace Swanpoel* in a push-up bra.
*I am relatively sure this is an incorrect spelling of her last name, but I couldn't deal with googling it to find out and being inundated with photos of her in underwear.

I dread this show every year. No one is forcing me to watch it, but it's like a train wreck (if train wrecks wore a 36DD and had a 25-inch waist): I cannot look away. And for good measure, VS always makes sure the show includes a model who's given birth in the past four months to make those of us who are 19-months postpartum feel especially shamefaced.

Note: I love it when the models claim the weight fell off by breastfeeding because they think the 100,000 other women who gave birth this past year are stupid enough to buy it. I have breastfed two babies. In fact, the youngest is only just wrapping up now. Nursing means babies drink milk your body produces. They are not tiny little liposuction machines that suck fat from your midsection to reveal six-pack abs underneath (unless a liposuction machine also pukes in your hair).
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Without a doubt, my absolute favorite part of the annual broadcast is the cautionary message claiming that watching Gisele Bundchen parade around in a g-string may be harmful to my child. I think they should consider adding the following message this year:

Warning: The following broadcast may be detrimental to the emotional and mental well-being of any woman who has had children or likes ice cream. Self-loathing may occur. Husband/partner discretion is strongly advised.

VS really want to try to sell the average woman on the Incredible bra collection, when in reality, the only incredible part is that I can pay $60 for a bra for the sole purpose of looking nothing like Miranda Kerr in it. I have never been able to determine if the target audience of this show is actually the women who will be wearing the lingerie or the men who want to pretend their girlfriends or wives could really look like this in a push-up:


If it's my girlfriends and I  you want to attract VS, I propose death cage matches featuring the Angels fighting over a brownie and a sugary cocktail. We would come out in spades to see that.

It seems my goal of strutting my stuff on network television in lingerie will have to wait another year. Since I don't have the abs or the bank account of an angel, this year I'll watch the show and mercilessly taunt the screen with the one thing I have that they don't: cookies.

4 comments:

  1. "I propose death cage matches featuring the Angels fighting over a brownie and a sugary cocktail"
    I think I may love you... seriously... you are so going on my Bloglovin feed, which is my best reads only, and in ONE post you made it on there baby.

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    1. Well that's about the highest compliment I can imagine! Thanks for the love (literally)! Right back at ya.

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  2. I read this over breakfast and nearly spit out my cereal (not my coffee though...NEVER my coffee) because I was laughing so hard! Hilarious post!

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  3. I read this over breakfast and nearly spit out my cereal (not my coffee though...NEVER my coffee) because I was laughing so hard! Hilarious post!

    ReplyDelete