In my next life I want to be a man.
Believe me, I have those days more often than you'd think.
Why do I want to be a man? Because I was bra shopping yesterday.
Guys have it made. They buy a pair of underwear by waist size. That's it.
At no point do they have to drag out the measuring tape and measure their ass cheeks or the size of the leg holes or the pee hole. At no time do they think, "Hmm, I wonder if my balls are going to fit into that little poochy thing in the front of muh drawers? I don't want them to be squashed. I better measure."
Or "Gosh, I hope the legholes aren't so wide that my cock slides out and starts banging against my kneecap while I'm walking. I better measure."
Or "I hope my cock isn't so huge that it won't fit through the pee slit in the front. I better measure." (If you know this guy, give him my email address...)
Manufacturers know that if there were any work at all involved in buying underwear, men would simply go without.
Buying a bra is an ordeal. One that usually ends in me screaming "I hate the Chinese!"
Someone needs to inform WalMart that bra sizes do not suddenly jump from 42D to 48DD. There ARE some sizes in between. Unfortunately, one of those sizes was the one I needed. Every chick living in my city must sporting either 44 inch boobs or 46 inchers because every freaking rack of bras had all of the 44's and 46's missing.
Then we have to deal with cup sizes. Finding your cup size is not as simple as finding a C or a D on the rack, because for some strange reason, WalMart has only one cup size per bra size. Like 38B or 42D or 32C. That's it. They don't offer A,B,C or D in each size. What's up with that?
Go to the menswear department and look at the pants. You'll find a million and one inseam sizes for a 34 waist, yet only one cup size per bra size in bras. Discrimination, pure and simple.
Then you run into problems with the sizes. A 44D at Fashion Bug might fit beneath your bust, but cause upper boob spillage, while a 44D at WalMart might fit in the cup, but threaten to cut off all circulation to your lower extremities.
Cup sizes are not universal either.
I picked up the one 44D bra I could find yesterday and I swear you could have fit three grapefruits into one cup. It looked huge. The last time I bought a sports bra it seemed to fit perfectly, yet I kept falling out of the bottom of the cups. WTH?
I've never heard a guy say, "Ahhh, shit. My ball just fell out of my drawers again. Hang on till I adjust."
Now, say you find the right bra size, and it fits like a dream. BUT you have to deal with the nightmare straps. No matter how you adjust them, they are constantly falling down.
I picked up three bras that I thought would fit and brought them home. No way was I going through the horrors of the changing room mirrors.
Mr. G was howling when I modeled them. One bra that I really liked was a leopard skin pattern that sucked my boobs in and molded them into a pointed cone shape. I didn't even know that was possible.
Hello? Chinese people? MY BOOBS ARE MORE ROUNDED.
They do not come to a sharp point because if they did, Mr. G would have been blinded long ago. I like my cups soft and rounded, too, thank you. Another white bra fit beneath my boobs, but the cups were too small and it caused boob spillage over the top and over the sides.
UGH. Nasty stuff that boob spillage. Especially when you're wearing a form fitting sweater and it's bulging out your under arms. The last one fit, but it caused my boobs to jut
out to the left and to the right. What ever happened to about face? I would love to know what Chinese boobs look like naked. The only time I've ever seen Chinese boobs has been in bits and pieces of Chinese porn, which means they were tied up with rope like the rest of the chick's body. No help there.
Guys have it easy. Urine tests, for instance. Guys get a cup, they point their cock and pee. (Ok, some of them point.)
That's it. We have to squat and guesstimate whether or not the cup is under the pee thingy. Then we have to pee a little, suck in the pee as best we can and check the cup. Pee a little, suck it in and check the cup. By the time we're finished we're wearing most of the pee on our hand or it's running down the inside of our leg. And when it comes to peeing, give them a bottle and they can do it whenever or wherever they want, even while driving the car, and they don't show anything more than the head of Wee Wee Jr. If we need to pee outside, we have to pull down our pants and then pull back our pants--lest we pee ON them-- and our butt is exposed for all the world to see. If we have to pee in a strange bathroom, we have to do the hover and squat thing where we hover over the toilet, squat down and pee without touching the seat, lest we get pregnant. Or cooch cooties. Guys just point and pee.
And we won't even talk about masturbation and how guys have no trouble whatsoever
finding theirs, (again, most of them) while our clit insists on playing hide and go seek every few seconds. By the time I'm finished, I'm practically begging it to stay in one place so I can achieve my objective.
Yessirree, In my next life, I'm going to be a guy.