I really need to get new underwear.
My period panties are getting bad, even for period panties.
I have a coupon that expires, like–oh, yesterday.
I should totally go, I might not get another one for a week.
OMG, a free bag if I spend $100? Done and done.
I should totally get lingerie.
I’ll get something super sexy, go to my boyfriend’s house in a trench coat, and completely surprise him.
He’ll think I’m a goddess.
A SEX goddess.
This place is magical. In the real world, I’m a 34B, but here, I’m pretty sure I’m a 36C.
Basically, I have a giant rack.
Do I go to the Pink section or the sophisticated lady section?
What’s the age limit for Pink? Eighteen? Twenty? College?
Well, I’m going more for a “rip my clothes off and have your way with me” look, so…
Sophisticated lady section it is.
There are A LOT of choices.
A lot of red and black choices.
And crotchless panties…
Do people actually wear those?
They look so uncomfortable. And hot.
Why are there so many straps?
Do you keep that on…during?
I can’t. The point of underwear IS to have a crotch section.
Is that the kind of sex guys want?
Crotchless panty sex?
Does that mean I’m boring in bed?
I THOUGHT “FIFTY SHADES OF GREY” WAS FICTION.
You know what? No. It’s just a book. And those panties are just for people who need to compensate for their lack of skills.
I’m awesome in bed.
I don’t need crotchless panties. I’m still hot.
But not as hot as the model on the wall.
Did they really need to put a picture of her next to the mirror?
I don’t want to look at myself then look over at her.
I see the judgment in her eyes.
I’m sorry I left my photoshopped body at home.
I’ll just get a bra with lace that somehow covers my entire body.
And makes it look like I lost 40 pounds.
And like I grew seven inches.
Why does the girl working the fitting room have to have bigger boobs than mine?
If I’m a 36C, she must be, like, a double E or something.
Does that even exist?
Why is there so much space between the bra cup and my boob?
Is that how they’re made nowadays?
So…maybe I’m not a 36C.
I don’t want to have to ask the giant-breasted girl to get me a smaller size.
I’ll just act like it fit and go switch it out myself.
“Yes, yes, it fit great. I love it! Thanks so much.”
I bet they’re fake.
Okay, let’s just put it back and be cool.
“No, I’m fine, I don’t need any help. Thanks.”
This is too stressful.
I thought coming here would magically give me big boobs and, like, abs.
If I spend $100, will they give me a Victoria’s Secret Angel’s body?
Because I’ll spend $100 dollars then, no problem.
I don’t even care about the free bag.
My period panties aren’t actually thaaaat bad.
And, like, they’re so comfortable.
And if I’m around a guy, I’ll just wear one of my three cute pairs of underwear.
So yeah, that will work.
“My lowered self-esteem and I are leaving now, thanks so much.” Bitches.
I actually think all of that stuff was labeled wrong.
Because I’m pretty sure I’m a 36C.
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