Bra Shopping, Man Style
Over the weekend I went to my local underwear shop to pick up some new lingerie, just in case any of these imaginary relationships I’m having with George Clooney, Elliot Stabler of Law and Order SVU or any Italian hot boy ever come to fruition. I was browsing around the shop, chatting with the owner when a man, wearing a long, tailored women’s coat came in.
Upon closer inspection, I saw he was wearing lipstick so figured he wasn’t in there buying his wife’s birthday present. Considering he was a cross dresser though, I was a little confused with the get up. Aside from a woman’s coat and some ladies flat knee high boots, everything else was all man. He even came complete with bald patch.
Let me stress, my issue here isn’t that he’s a cross dresser. Heck, I lived in a house with a transsexual circus performer and twenty Venezuelan gay boy refugees on a street lined with prostitutes in Toronto. And I myself am pretty much a gay man in a woman’s body. I don’t care about people’s life choices. My whole thing is, if you’re gonna do it, do it right.
While yes, the right underwear is the foundation of any good outfit, how about this guy just start his transformation with a wig and a shave? That would make the world of difference. A women’s coat teamed with a bald patch sends way too many confusing signals.
So while this guy slowly browsed the shop, checking out every bra, thong, corset and panty in sight, I just wanted to nestle him in my bosom, stroke his bald patch and tell him everything would be okay. I wanted to take him shoe shopping, buy him a good wig and get his eyebrows waxed. Let me work my magic Sir! I’m telling you, give me one day to make this guy over, he’ll be starring in the best drag show in town and getting finger snaps left, right and centre.
While I did feel bad for the guy, I also wanted to shop and he was kind of messing up my rhythm. Usually when I’m in there, the owner is helping me out, making sure the bras fit properly and such like, but I didn’t necessarily feel comfortable flaunting my funbags in front of this guy. Not because I thought he was a perv or anything – I just didn’t want him stealing my style choices. Sizes were limited enough in there as it was.
He eventually left with the skimpiest thongs you’ve ever seen. Good luck to you Bald Patch Man, good luck.