a secret revealed

In the midst of shopping for lotion for my dear Beppe, I was attacked by several overwhelmingly perfumed and sluttily clad Victoria's Secret saleswomen, begging me to "Buy 6 for $30! You only got 2 bottles of lotion? Well, you can get a third for only $4 more!" I explained several times that I only needed 2 bottles of lotion. They were baffled ("like, some people don't put lotion over every inch of their body eighty-seven times a day? omigosh!") But I suppose the excessive smells deaden their already weak brain cells.

So I explained to them, "No, I don't want to open a charge account at Victoria's Secret, dang it! You objectify women and force on me the idea that I can't be happy unless I'm wearing eleven different lotions simultaneously, all of them titled something whorish like "Pure Seduction" or 'Erotic Peppermint' (meh, I made that one up. But I'm sure it will be hitting the shelves soon). Oh, and by the way, you guys SUCK at keeping secrets, because Victoria ain't wearing a thing!"

I didn't really say all this (well, not out loud, anyway). I bit my cheek and hypocritically wished the mentally incapacitated saleswoman a Merry Christmas.

I don't know how to end this ridiculously dramatic post the way I would like to without being sacriligious. But whatever happened to Jesus? Once again, we've forgotten. Our brain cells are deadened by Amber Romance and Sexy something or other. It's happened to me again this year and it took a crew of objectified women (who make me wish I was not a woman) quoting sale prices to realize it.