Dildo’s and digerdoo’s

I’ve been shopping. Not out there, never out there. I only go out there if I have nothing to buy. It’s a modern-day dilemma. If you want something specific in this day and age, you look on line. You never go shopping for it. Don’t be daft, that would be bloody ridiculous. I mean could you imagine having to trundle around shops actually looking for something you want. Could you image actually having to find the thing and then queue, literally stand in line to pay for it. What a palaver. I think you get the message. I don’t go shopping. The only time I go shopping is when I don’t have anything to buy and I wander aimlessly around and pick up rubbish.

I have been shopping, catalogue shopping. Many years ago, I had the big books come through my door and it was the miracle of the modern age that I could get anything I wanted and it would arrive on my doorstep two weeks later ready for me to wear or use. And the best part was I didn’t have to pay for it for at least a month. Smashing. Time moved on and the telephone ordering became the thing. We would wait until we had a full shop to do, the kids school things, his shirts, my work clothes and order them over the phone in one go, expecting the delivery the next week. I would time the call so that the delivery would arrive on my day off and I wouldn’t have to go into town to pick up the parcel from the post office if we were out. Things were moving at such a fast pace back then. Now I even have my groceries delivered and birthday cards, I don’t even have to leave the house unless I want to. Although why would I buy all those lovely clothes if I didn’t have somewhere spectacular to show them off.

I’ve been shopping on line, I bought bra’s. I have to buy them on line, you can’t get my size in a shop. As we wandered aimlessly through the shopping arcade the week before last we popped into Victoria’s Secrets. Don’t know what’s so secret about it, apart from the prices. Have you ever noticed how the more expensive a shop is, the harder they try to hide the label with the price on it, or even worse they don’t have a price tag? They do say that if you have to ask you can’t afford it. I ask, I have money because I don’t buy things I can’t afford. My daughter was measured up, I just laughed at the woman and said, “really, you think you can fit these?” and left it at that.

Coming out of the dressing room, the sales assistant hung her head and gave an apologetic smile, she had assured Mandy that they had bras to fit her. She was wrong. I don’t understand the American dress sizes. How can anyone be a size Zero, surely that means that they don’t have a size! As for bra sizes, it seems Mandy is a triple D. That’s a G in English money. I’m not saying for obvious reasons, let’s just say that my size 36 back has to carry more weight than a woman who is six months pregnant.

I ordered four bras, neutral, white, white, and black. I got yuk colour, white, white and baggy, and scratchy black. One out of four isn’t bad and the black, and yuk one has washed up well. The baggy one went back.

Day before yesterday checking my emails I had the “Review your purchase,” mail. How do I review a necessary piece of equipment that is built for holding up flabby fat flaps?

I could be really honest and tell them that not all women are built like Godzilla and although they have huge tits it doesn’t mean that they have shoulders to match and the wires don’t have to stick to your armpits.

I could say that pretty lace is all well and good but starch the likes of dried superglue isn’t necessary to hold it in place. We have boobs that will do that.

I could ask why neutral has become synonymous with vomit. Skin tone has been banned, I understand that, having many varied friends of race and creed I know for instance that Wilma is not pale pink. Nor is Jessica a burnt brown. But neutral is not as nice as the online photos. Do they change the colour of the model and then meld the bra to her shade to make it look good?

The end review was simple.

Functional. What more can be said about over shoulder extra strength boulder flabby fat flap holders?

When I finished the review, I went back to my e-mails. “This one will be good,” I thought to myself.

20% off if you order now.

Order what? You know and I know that you should not under any circumstances, ever, not never, not for any reason, open that e-mail, but…

What the…?
I don’t speak Dutch, but I recognised it the instance I opened up the e-mail. The rest of it was just gobbledegook. Hunkemoller. Curiosity got me, time for a size check. I wonder if Dutch women have larger than average flappy bits.

There I was faced with a whole new set of sizes and it was time for some conversions. Google to the rescue. 80K I’ll let you work it out. Nope, nope, and nope. It seems that even the larger sized Dutch bras don’t get that big, must be a lack of larger women around. Oh well. I closed the e-mail. Did it end there. Did it ephalump. I’ve had more adverts on FB and unexpected emails for titillating frilly bits than ever before even had one for a company called Passion 8. Opened that up, thinking the picture of the pink frilly nighty looked really nice, what I was faced with was a sparkly flashing vibrator. It took me a mere 30 minutes to close that one down. An elegant sophisticated glass dildo is not what I need at my age. Would make a brilliant bauble for the Christmas tree though.

It’s coming up, isn’t it, that time of year, I know some of you have already begun the shopping, me, well I start the cooking this week. Shopping for the puddings and cakes has been delivered today. I don’t do presents so don’t panic I won’t be buying any baubles for anyone. Mark has bought a birthday pressie for one of his boys, a hammer, just wonder what he will write on his online review.

Hammer: Technically adjustable variable pressure instrument, needs manual calibration to work to its full potential.

Hits well if aimed correctly.

Reaches the thumbs that other thumbs aren’t stupid enough to get in the way of.

I can’t say I’ll be reviewing on line again, it’s not worth the junk mail I’ve received, although come to think about it, do you remember the flyers and envelopes full of adverts you used to get when you had a catalogue. Still get those as well. Hang on, just had an idea, I wonder what I’d get if I started to look at digeridoo’s, what offer do you think I could get on a kangaroo?


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