I Hate You, Victoria's Secret

Can we talk about this? Please? I feel sort of inappropriate talking about this, but let us discuss.
I hate Victoria's Secret. And yet I've shopped there (only for bras).
First, let's just get this out of the way: what exactly is Victoria's Secret? Because I walk by the place and am bombarded by life-sized images of some 20 year old's privates. I mean, Victoria, if you're trying to keep a secret, you're doing a really bad job of it. Because all yo bidness is hangin out. We can see your "secrets". When the dudes over at the AT&T kiosk have memorized your bustline, you ain't got any secrets left, honey.
 I think a better name for your store would be "Victoria's Announcement!!!" Definitely with the exclamation points. It would be incredibly fitting, since nothing screams "Here we are!!!" more than a larger-than-life set of lace covered breasts in a public hallway.
I'm sure I don't need to launch into a lecture about how demeaning (not to mention disheartening) these images are for women, how messed up it is that children walking in the mall with mom and dad have to witness them, or the sad state of men and porn addiction and how it's destroying relationships and marriages every day. Oh, was that kind of a lecture right there? Ooops. Well it's true.
And you know what sucks? When you're a mother with an honorable track record of breastfeeding and childbirthing and you walk into Victoria's Secret looking for a bra, and a girl who's like a size 0 and has obviously never had a baby is the one who gets to measure you for a bra. And she has to use almost the whole roll of tape to do so. And she's all like, "Oh kaaaay, let me see if we have any size L's anywhere." And then 20 minutes later she's still on the phone with V.S. headquarters, trying to determine if they've ever even heard of size L's.
I'm just kidding. Seriously, I'm not that far up in the alphabet. But what I'm not kidding about is how annoying/humiliating it is to even step foot in V.S. and see all these little stick figures walking around with stepford wives smiles, saying "Our cheeky panties are on sale today." I just want to say, "Bring me your fattest employee so that I can be properly fitted, please." Then they will bring me the overweight lady and she and I will laugh together about the starving Barbies while she lassos me with her homemade measuring rope and then throws a few bras in my direction. "Here ya go!" she'd say. "These ones are 29 bucks and under.I know you don't have $68 to blow on one of our 'Perfectly Poised Job Interview' bras." Then we'd laugh again and after I'd picked out some decent bras, she'd give me a Snickers bar or one of those Auntie Em's pretzels they sell at the mall.
Actually, that sounds crass.What I really mean is that I would just be thrilled if I could find a store that wasn't overrun with the kind of employees who are merely stockpiling skanky looking underclothes to satisfy the whims of their pervy little boyfriends. Where there were ladies who understood the beauty and function of the breasts, and had the proper respect for them. Where they had an appreciation for beautiful - not matronly, or Waverly Fabric-esque - underwear and bras, (since I have no desire to shop at the Hidden Mormon Old Time Underclothes Shoppe, where they sell bras and underwear that make your private parts look like evil obscurities).I just want a real store with real women employees that I would be able to relate to and have respect from and for.
Why do I shop at VS? Well, some of their stuff is actually great, not slutty- looking, but feminine and pretty and ahem...super supportive. And God knows we all need support. And I'm sorry, but I hate going into the lonely bra department at JCPenney's or whatever, where there's no one to measure me and it feels like that part of the store is reserved for lepers because it's way out of the way over near the suitcases. Where the only human contact is Lionel Richie's "Hello" playing faintly in the background. Department store bra-shopping is truly depressing.
A few weeks ago I found myself in the midst of an honest to goodness bra crisis. And I had to go to Victoria's Secret. I had to. I got my stuff and as I was checking out, the tiny, orangely - tanned wisp of a cashier said to me, "Just so you know, you get a free Cheeky Panty today." I feigned enthusiasm. "Oh cool," I said in a monotone voice. "Can you just have one of your employees bring me a pair?" The cashier looked shocked, as if I'd just confided in her that I'd broken the sixth commandment. "What.. color?" she stammered. "Oh I don't know. Red? Pink? Yeah, pink." Listen, folks. It's not that I don't like free panties or anything. It's just that I could already tell by the name that these ones were bound to be vastly uncomfortable. What I wasn't prepared for was how gawdy the things were. I was not expecting to be presented with a pair of undergarments that looked like they'd been made in one of Great Aunt Trudy's Bedazzle It! Classes for the Legally Blind and Elderly. These things were AWFUL. I mean it. They were made of cheap craft materials and looked as if they'd been hot glued together. No kidding, they looked like a really ugly dinner napkin. The scratchy, hideous "lace" was GOLD and super shiny in that way which you can only associate with gypsies and 1970's prostitutes. "Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed, with a horrified look on my face.
I almost, almost gave them back. That's how bad! But then I thought, "No. These things are free." (was frugality one of the reasons why Eve ate the apple? "Oh look, an apple! And it's free."  Okay, I know that's untrue, and I know it's not a good excuse for eating forbidden apples or accepting tawdry underwear).
 So I brought them home and showed them to my husband and you know what he did? He laughed. Hysterically. He couldn't even pretend. He was just like "What the hell are those?!" And we laughed and laughed and now I am seriously tempted to tack them to the "Upcoming Classes" board at JoAnn Fabrics with a small write up in braille. Except that I know the blind folks would cop one feel of the project and beat the Cheeky Panties down with their canes.