Yesterday in the mail, Mr. P received a thick pamphlet from Victoria’s Secret with a coupon for a Free Panty. “Why is this addressed to me?” Mr. P asked, handing it me.
I cocked an eyebrow and asked with mock insinuation, “Is there something you want to share with me?” Of course we both knew it was a remnant of that magical time early in our relationship, when he would buy me panties and negligees and I would buy him wine guides and waffle makers as we wooed each other on our way to the altar. Now, as the memory of the honeymoon wanes and we remain bound together by our love, our history, and our mutual fear of lawyers, I get residual Free Panty offers and he gets home-cooked meals featuring carb-free fare like pan-fried giblets and meatza.
The coupon is promoting Victoria’s Secret’s latest collection, called “I Love My Body” by Victoria (here). See, you can’t really tell from the pouty look of stupefaction on this woman’s face, but she just loves her body. And ladies, doesn’t she just inspire you to love your body, too?
I wanted to throw the cursed tract into the recycling right then and there, but what woman can resist free panties? I ripped open the mailing to find the terms and conditions of my complimentary undergarment. That’s when I gleaned a lick of hope that this whole “I Love My Body” by Victoria thing wasn’t just about long-limbed stick thin women with big perky breasts loving their bodies, but “Every Body” loving their bodies, like Dove Soap’s legendary Campaign for Real Beauty. ”
A Body for Every Body?! Has a societal tide been swayed by the backlash against impossible beauty standards? Is Victoria’s Secret becoming inclusive of body types other than the traditional busty toothpick? Umm…
Apparently not. That’s when I realized that Victoria’s Secret doesn’t want me to actually love my body. Why would they? I mean, if I truly loved my modest bustline that is slowly succumbing to gravity, would I feel compelled to mutate its appearance so it more perfectly fits into an abstract ideal? No, they want me to love their bras, which they euphemistically call “bodies.” What a mind fuck.
Anyway… my intellectual outrage just can’t stand up against free panties. I guess we really are the weaker sex.
