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Tag Archives: Woman

I have got to know, is yogurt a woman thing?

My wife lives on sweets which are completely
unhealthy, yet she loves yogurt.  I get the drift
that yogurt is somewhat healthy.  She also drinks
Diet Pepsi and Diet Coke because they are not
too syrup-like.

Personally, I think yogurt has about a 1.3
second gag time (the amount of time it takes to
make me gag.)  Therefor it could not possibly
be a man thing.

When it comes to my wife’s extremes between
unhealthy sweets and yo-gag, and diet sodas,
she says the yogurt and sugar-free cancels out
the calories and unhealthiness of the sweets.

Someone has got to let me know, but I think it
truly must be a woman thing.  I do mean woman,
as in my woman’s thing.

Copyright 2011, by Glenn Raymond.

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Yes, it really is me (back in the day).

 

Thanksgiving has come and gone again and I just
realized I have some “need to know” information
for all of my fellow “anti-shop with the ladies”
men out there.  This is a true story and I never
have to shop with my wife again, because of it.

My wife loves to shop, so her gift has always
been to take her shopping.  Now guys, this is
not a good idea.  Such a gift will take years
from your life, trust me.

My lovely wife was dragging me around the
mall by the pocketbook (nose).  At the end
of $200.00 she suddenly remembered she
had to have a couple of good fitting bras.  I
had no clue what exactly I was in for when
she dragged me by the hair, kicking and
screaming into Victoria’s Secret.

I blushed at first, but then I gladly noticed
several other unlucky, red faced men
mulling around as well.  Actually, looking
back on it, a few of them seemed a tad too
happy about it.  They had most certainly
been brainwashed to appear happy at all
times by their significant others.

To my horror this place had undergarments
practically tied in knots, piled and heaped in
handy, pre-sized bins.  My wife began pilfering
the merchandise and for a few moments I
actually entertained the possibility that she just
might fall in head first and never come out again.
All of the male natives had the look of certain
uprising in their eyes.  I began plotting my
fast and safe escape route.

Thirty-five minutes in my wife holds up six sling
shots (bras) and announces to every man in the
store that she is going to try them on.  She
demanded that I stay firmly planted right where
I was.

I waited.  Panic was crawling and writhing about
in the pit of my gut and a few guys looked as
though they were either going to toss their
cookies or pass out.  Either way it was not going
to be pretty.  I waited.

After what was certainly ten years of my life, the
dressing room finally regurgitated my wife.  She
happily handed me one bra and tossed the rest
back into a bin.  I was so happy.

“We can go now?”

“Not on your life.  I’ve only found one.”

The ritual began again, and men let me tell you
it is not at all like the catalogs.  I never got to
see one of those gorgeous models.  Five bra’s
later my wife disappeared into the changing
room again.  My peaceful waiting had ended
though.

She must have heard me laughing, because she
tried those things on in a flat minute.  It had to
be some kind of bra hooking speed record.  It
was a complete shame the Guinness  people
were not on site.  She may have made me
famous that night if they had been.

I relished the horror in her eyes when she
emerged from the dressing room and caught me
parading her black bra around the store perched
perfectly around the crown of my cowboy hat.

I had never, and probably never will again,
experience that blushing,  “momma takes scalps”
look of complete and utter “giving birth” facial
expression again.

Without further hesitation I announced just
how fine it would be if stores like this one would
kindly install a bar and big screen television, so
we men could lounge around with dignity while
we were held hostage to wait for so long.  Every
man laughed and agreed with me.  I was glowing.

Clearly horrified, my wife rushed forth removing
my (her) elastic and lace hat band.  She was
clearly muttering vehement expletives in my
general direction.  With two bras in hand she was
escorted to the front of a very long line of angry
women.  I had performed much better than
planned.  The women who worked there loved
me so much they let us go first.

“I am SO so sorry.”  My dear wife looked quite ill
as we approached the register.

“Oh, no honey.”  The clerk replied.  “We’re sorry.”
She looked me over sideways.  “We are very
sorry for your misfortune.”

I think they charged me double, but it was worth
it.  The sound of clapping and cheering from the
other men rang out behind us. 

I have not had to go shopping with my wife
since.  So take it from me you guys, a few well
thought out, quick-witted tricks and your time
is just that, yours.  Enjoy.

Copyright 2010, by Glenn Raymond.
Photograph of Glenn Raymond, Copyright 2010,
by Glenn Raymond.  All Rights Reserved.