Haute Flash Contessa

Rants, ramblings, raves of a woman who blames everything from road rage to undercooked pork chops on a hormone imbalance.

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Victoria's Dirty Little Secret

I bought a wonder-type bra a few years ago, not because I was in the mood for a little cleavage heavage but because it lifted the old boobs off my belly. Those lovelies were hand-picked off the shelves in Victoria's Secret. The boobs, not the bras. Not long afterward, I was throwing on my sweater and noticed nipples clinging to the sweater. I pushed, shoved, adjusted and the nipples wouldn't go away. Guess what? They weren't mine. They belonged to Victoria. Seems the company had built into the cups its own set of nipples. Nipples that didn't rub elbows with your belly button or tuck into your waistband, either. Nipples that wouldn't disappear. There they were, either for eternity or until the dryer ate them. And why? To make a point. Or two.


At 9:31 AM, Blogger Kristina said...

Did they stand up taller in the air conditioning?

At 10:29 AM, Blogger haute flash contessa said...

Nope. Totally stationary. You do mean Victoria's and not mine, right?


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