What kind of sadist invented lingerie?

You know it was a man. And Victoria’s Secret – I think the more accurate description is Victor’s Dream.
Honestly. I’ve never understood it. Why would I (or any woman) want to spend forty five minutes of their time trying to squeeze into a piece of fabric that looks like it MIGHT fit around the girth of my cat?
Here’s the scenario – You take a long, luxurious bubble bath. You even shave your legs. INCLUDING the upper leg. You even trim Mrs. Happy down there to tame the wild underbrush. You get out. Put on lotion, maybe a spritz of perfume. And pick up this sadistic piece of fabric. You squeeze in. Barely. Then you look in the mirror and have to adjust your girls. Then your little pouch on your tummy (courtesy of two kids and too many meals at McDonalds) has to be smoothed out. Then your butt starts to droop and you have to adjust. Whoops, there go the girls again. That’s when I begin to think the whole theory of evolution really must be wrong. After all – if God had intended for us to get our bodies into nylon and mesh and lace and is that a WIRE I feel running down my rib cage, sorry – got off track! But if we were intended to put on such medieval torture devices, we would have grown additional arms by now.
Ok, back to the mirror. Girls up and as perky as they can get – check
Tummy? Flatter than normal- check
Behind? Still slipping – ok, I can do this – I have two kids, 8 cats and a 150 pound dog- one hand to secure the girls, the other to tug your bottom back into place. Check!
You turn to open the door and oh crimeny! You have to use the bathroom. Why NOW? Ok, ok…you gingerly attempt to slip OUT of this thing you just spent twenty minutes trying to get INTO. You hope and pray it retains your body shape, and will slide up easier than it went on or off! All right – now you’re done, time to get back INTO this wretched piece of garbage. Repeat entire scene from above. Add five minutes because it seems the material has actually SHRUNK from the last time! Stop breathing, because you FINALLY have it on, nothing is drooping or sagging or falling out! You take baby steps out of the bathroom. And there’s your Prince Charming. Laying on the bed, primed and poised in his boxers. Boxers. That would have been SO much easier! Note to yourself that you are going to make HIM put this on just ONCE so he fully appreciates it.
He looks at you and smiles. You’re frozen. Fear of droopage keeps you firmly in place. You smile because it’s the one part of your body you can move without fear of something slipping out of place.
He asks you to take it off.
The JERK!
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