i ordered a victoria secret catalogue a couple of weeks ago. it arrived yesterday. i browsed through it, in search of panties that don't intentionally ride up my tushie. (never will understand that trend.) as i found what i was looking for, i ear-marked the page and continued to see what else 'the secret' has to offer up. $48 tank tops. $70 jeans. no thank you. i believe i hear goodwill and ross calling me up instead.
going through the catalog, i went through the mind mantra that most women go through in searching through similar catalogs. 'god damn skinny little bitch. why can't they show someone with wrinkles and some belly and thigh flab. at the very least, someone over the age of 25."
then i had an idea. catalogs for women with the model's heads cut off. or better yet, catalogs with mannequin models. or even better yet, one of those sewing dealies. you know what i'm talking about. those headless torso's that seamstresses often use. there ya go! that would definitely work for me. i would get to browse through catalogs in search of pretty, feminine clothing without having to hear my mother's, father's, ex-boyfriends and other societal voices tell me 'you should look like HER'.
these catalogs are really for men. i mean come on, a straight woman doesn't need to look at models in panties and bras, looking us in the eye with that sexy "you know you want me" come hither look. unless i can convince marketers to dress apollo ono in women's underwear and bras, looks like i am stuck.
when my hubby arrived home from work last night, he spotted the catalog. "oh is that your victoria secret catalog?" he asked, trying to sound non-chalant about the whole deal. "yes love and don't try and fool me with your casualness. i can see the drool already leeking out of the side of your mouth." i replied.
he plopped down next to me, picking it up. "so did you find the panties you were wanting?"
"um hmm," i replied, turning on the television.
hub proceeded to go through the catalog, pausing of course on the bra pages. "hey did you see these bras?" he asked, with actual enthusiasm. now before i continue, i must add that i have had many catalogues over the years arrive at my house advertising bras, both with and without models. he's never shown enthusiasm over bras in catalogs before. but there's something about that victoria secret model in a bra that turns men into slobbering fools.
"yeah, i saw them. too expensive," i said.
"oh come on honey, i'll buy you one!" he said.
"thanks baby, but no matter how hard you try, i will never look like her, even with the same bra on." i said, wishing i had never ordered the darn catalogue to begin with.
"oh come on honey, i think you're hot and you know you're gorgeous enough to pose for victoria's secret, and besides that, this is all fake anyway. it isn't real. airbrushed and stuff," he said with a wave of his hand. fake or not, he still browsed through a few more pages before putting it down on the ground.
by that time, the television show "deal or no deal" came on the tube. for those who aren't familiar with the show, it's a show here in the states. contestants have to open up small suitcases one by one after first selecting one for themselves. the hope is to walk away with one million big ones. each suitcase, 26 in all, contains dollar amounts ranging from one penny to one million dollars. after a select number of cases are open, the 'banker' calls and offers up an offer to buy the contestants case, the offer based on the amounts in each opened case and what still remains to be unopened. the contestant can either say "deal" or "no deal". blah blah blah beside each case is a young model. scantily dressed, cleavage showing. female, obviously. (would they be anything else?)
so last night, as the models came out and the host, howie mandel, finished with his usual drooling smile upon giving the glam gals their introduction, i said "that's it! i'm writing nbc and demanding that they put male models beside those cases!"
my husband looked over at me, noticed i was on my soapbox and opted, like the smart man he is, to remain quiet.
"i mean it," i said with resolve. "i want to see them parade around a bunch of beautiful young men with hot bodies! dress 'em in tank tops and boxer style briefs. something like that."
hub just smiles. he's safe and he knows it. he knows the tv execs would never put male models on tv. it's a man's world after all.
"if they could only clone apollo ono. put 26 different varieties of his body and face up on that stage. now THAT would make me happy!" i said, with a big smile on my face, staring off into space, drool beginning to form.
well upon hearing this, upon hearing me actually reference someone, my husband's look went from amusement to sadness, even insecure.
"what's wrong honey?" i asked.
"well now that you put it that way, saying you'd like to see apollo ono up there and not me, well...." he said, with that same sad look in his eyes.
with that, i picked up the victoria secret catalog, pointed to the bra model he was so enthused over and said "how is what i just did any different than your sudden interest in bras?" i asked.
"well it's just that i don't look like apollo does and well....." he continued, looking like a puppy dog who just had his chewie toy taken away.
good lord, i thought. this evening started out with victoria secret models and television models and then me mentioning one name of one individual, one young man, one very hot sexy yummy delicious oooh i'd love to run my hands all over his hard sweaty chest ok where was i going with this??? oh yes........mentioning just one name of one young man suddenly changed the energy in the room.
after offering up my reassurance, which came in the form of me saying "ok i'd get them to clone you AND apollo and put them on that stage" (which of course is a LIE), i have come to a conclusion.
no matter our gender, no matter our age, no matter the money we make or the career we have, we all deal with our own insecurities with how we look.
that is unless you're a victoria secret catalogue model. and if any of them claim to have any insecurities, i'd like to talk with them. if they think they are in any way unattractive, i will gladly give them some wrinkles and a pinch of this fat that my hubby calls my "sweet little belly". afterall, if they are indeed insecure in any way with how they look, a little dose of "reality" ain't gonna hurt, is it?