Ummmm... I am having some trouble starting this post. Afterall, how do you admit to the world that you hijacked a pair of underwear from Victoria's Secret? Tell me! How do you confess such a thing to the blogosphere?!?
It wasn't my fault. I swear. Fast forward to last weekend when I was casually shopping and wandered into V.S. to look at some Valentine Day lingerie. One piece of clothing (can you call it that?) caught my eye. I tried it on. I liked it. I decided to buy it.
Stop there. There was already a never ending line on this Saturday afternoon, and I was already late to meet Hubs for lunch. I looked at my watch. The underwear would have to wait.
Rewind to today. I strolled on into Victoria's Secret, confident as sin that I could buy my little pair of undies and head right back out the door, no problem. I looked around casually first so to appear that I wasn't some kind of an underwear freak who knew exactly what she wanted upon entering the store. You can't just make a beeline for something in a lingerie store, people! Others will think you're a freak!
So I played it cool. Looked at lingerie I knew I wouldn't buy. Slowly made my way over to the display where my coveted undies were calling my name. Once I arrived at the display, however, I discovered, much to my dismay, that said underwear was sold out.
SOLD OUT, I TELL YOU!
OUT OUT OUT! How does V.S. sell out of its sexiest undies four days before its biggest day of the year?!? You don't see Santa running out of toys on December 21, do you? Step up Victoria's Secret, and learn how to run a business for crying out loud!
That's when I saw the mannequin. Mannequin wearing MY underwear. Taunting. Waving. Seducing me. That underwear could be mine in the blink of an eye with one quick maneuver. I looked at the V.S. worker nearby, carefully arranging padded bras and lacy thongs. She turned her back. This was my big moment.
I worked quickly on that mannequin, my fingers moving with a ferocity never know before. Within seconds I had successfully slipped the underwear down and right off of that mannequin forever. It's a strange feeling to be stripping undies from a lifeless figure, taking something you're not supposed to have while at the same time leaving a skinny mannequin completely underwearless.
Let's just say I wouldn't recommend it.
With the underwear successfully in my hand, I glanced oh so casually around the store. Had anyone seen my crime on this lazy Thursday afternoon? I slowly wandered on over (play it cool, Bonnie, play it cool!) to the check out. There was a buxom blonde at the register. I assessed her, as you always must when committing a crime. How smart was this lady? Would she know the store was currently sold out of this particular style of underwear? Would she realize that the only pair left was in fact just moments ago stripped from an innocent mannequin? Would she take one look at my purchase and know me instantly for what I really was- a thief and a mannequin pervert?
I played it cool while I tried to figure her out. Tried on some perfume here, some perfume there. Took a bath in strawberries and champagne body spray. Tested some more. Put on some lotion. Rubbed cream all over. Blondie looked up, "You just love all those scents, don't you?"
Oh, shoot. She was onto me. Time to proceed to checkout. Everything cool here. No one doing nothing they're not supposed to. I slid the underwear across the counter and then proceeded to talk a mile a minute (always ALWAYS my strategy when I think I am in trouble) "Isn't it crazy that it's already February, wow how the year goes, especially this year, hardly even had a winter, wow I love that watch, beautiful, my problem is I always lose watches or they break when I play volleyball or something like that, but I do love them, just can't keep them on my wrist, you know, I wish Victoria Secret sold their every day clothes in the store instead of just online, they're so cute, you know, I'm sure you'd get a lot of business, so you got any weekend plans? Friday is tomorrow you know an-"
"Ma'am. Here is your purchase." That speedy miss had already bagged up the lingerie, scanned my card, and completed the transaction before I had even gotten halfway through my monologue.
But the joke was on her. In that bag she handed to me was the stolen underwear, and with it my ticket to a successful getaway. I gently took the bag and moseyed on out of the store, acting interested in pajama sets and tight tank tops. Can't go blowing the whole gig now, you know. Gotta play it cool until the very end.
As soon as I was out of that store, though, I booked it. Straight up ran out to my car. I just knew that any second those workers were bound to see the bottomless mannequin and know that it was me who had so disrespectfully undressed their most prized display.
umm... having trouble ending this post. Just know that I stole underwear today and lived to tell the tale.