Hurr, hurr, boobs.

[shadesofmauve]

Since ursulav is going on about 'em again, and I recently made a trip to VS myself, I thought I'd explain for the guys how a bra-fitting works.

This is what happens after they whisk your lady friend off to the dressing room...

First, they measure around the rib cage.
Secondly, they measure around the bust.
Thirdly, the supplicant sacrifices a chicken using a silver knife with a hilt bound in satin, and the attendant reads the entrails.

Clothes removal is unnecessary -- the dressing room is just a matter of protecting the squeamish from the sight of the chicken.

Incidentally, while at VS I tried on a bra that gave ME cleavage -- it must have been pulling fat from my butt. Turns out, cleavage is really distracting.

No, I did not buy it. I prefer my undergarments without inter-dimensional portals to the Land of Excess Breast Tissue.

Comments

[nei-tan.livejournal.com]

HA! You are hilarious, don't try to deny it. :)

Seriously, I only shop from VS online anymore, for two reasons. 1.) chicken blood stains are a BITCH to remove from clothing, and 2.) fuckers never come close to carrying my size. Also, all that pink and silver decoration makes me shudder uncontrollably. Just passing by a store in the mall brings back horrible memories of ridiculously cut underpants, and wildly uncomfortable lacy lingerie.

[fenmere.livejournal.com]

For some reason, I find myself, like a Monty Python chartered accountant, walking on the other side of the hallway from VS whenever I go by it, furtively keeping my head bowed and eyes fixed upon my feet.

[emony42.livejournal.com]

See, now my memory of you and VS involves a trip to see a movie at the mall with a good portion of the Crew. We walked past VS and all the boys (<zair99, madalchemist, Ev) turned as one to ogle the items in the windows while we girls tried our damnedest not to laugh too loud. I much prefer that memory to one of lacy underthings. :-)