Friday, May 06, 2005

Over the shoulder boulder holder

Otto Titsling, inventor and kraut,
had nothing to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures,
his future seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at least twice a week.

I started my quest tonight at that pink lingerie store, eager to redeem the coupon I'd received for free perfume. The coupon also included $5 off any bra, so I thought I'd try even though I doubted I would find anything there for me. I figured if I asked for a measurement and they didn't have anything in my size, I would be off the hook and my trip for free perfume would be complete.

One night at the opera he saw an Aida
who's t-ts were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall into the pit,
done in by the weight of those terrible t-ts.

The cute young saleswoman measured me and announced her conclusion--36DD. My inner skeptic disagreed, but I obediently went into a fitting room and immediately knew she was wrong. Moving up one size, it still appeared I was out of luck.

Oh, my god! There she blows!
Aerodynamically this girl was a mess.
Otto eyeballed the diva lying comatose amongst the reeds,
and he suddenly felt the fire of inspiration flood his soul.
He ran back to his workshop where he futzed and futzed and futzed.

One of the horrible things about being a woman? In the five minutes that it took me to leave that den of femininity and head over to a major department store, apparently my whole body changed because my next fitting--by a "fitting specialist"--concluded I was a 42B. Again, I silenced my inner skeptic and obediently entered the fitting room.

For Otto Titsling had found his quest:
to lift and mold the female breast;
to point the small ones to the sky;
to keep the big ones high and dry!

Every night he'd sweat and snort
searching for the right support.
He tried some string and paper clips.
He even tried his own two lips!

Looking for 42B? Even with the help of two salewomen, I couldn't find any bras in that size. The two women came consulted again when I told them their next guess was not even close. (If you're keeping score at home, this is size number four in less than two hours.)

Well, he stitched and he slaved
and he slaved and he stitched
until finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose from his workbench triumphant.Yes!
He had invented the worlds first
over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!

Trying on size number four, I quickly came to the conclusion that one more tweak was needed.

Exhausted but ecstatic he ran
down the street to the diva's house
bearing the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the darn thing on.
But, after many initial misgivings,she finally did.
And the sigh of relief that issued forth
from the diva's mouth was so loud
that it was mistaken by some
to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds
which would often roll through the Schwarzwald
with a vengeance!Ahhhhh-i!

After trying on nearly 20 bras, I finally found one that I could imagine taking home.

But little did Otto know,
at the moment of his greatest triumph,
lurking under the diva's bed
was none other than the very worst
of the French patent thieves,
Philippe DeBrassiere.
And Phil was watching the scene
with a great deal of interest!

Later that night, while our Brun Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe Philippe softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and corsets galore,
'til he found Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.

The store was having a big sale tonight--buy 2, get 2 free. Having had one success, it would seem I was on my way.

Crying, "Oh, my god! What joy! What bliss!
I'm gonna make me a million from this!
Every woman in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods manufactured in Taiwan."

But with only one I wanted to take home, I came home empty-handed.

The result of this swindle is pointedly clear:
Do you buy a titsling or do you buy a brassiere?

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At 4:45 AM, Blogger bill said...

I haven't had many Typical Husband Moments, but you remind me of one. My wife wanted to buy a new bra, and I knew enough to know that this was a Big Deal, if for no other reason that they are expensive. We happened to be in a major department store down in DC, and so I urged her to avail herself of the services of their bra fitter (who of course has the job that every teenaged boy wants, at least until he finds out the age of the normal customer). Turns out that for the last several years, she's worn the wrong size. Apparently, the side panels provide more support than she'd thought. She was prepared to just go home with this knowledge, and I insisted that she had to buy at least one, and preferably more, here, at this temple of commerce, rather than at home, where the primary outlet is JCPenny by mail. And she did.

I was pleased.

At 2:41 PM, Blogger Angie said...

Bill--I wondered what your reaction to this story would be. I love your story and I'm so glad you shared it!

At 8:17 PM, Blogger bill said...

Heck, A, its an easy way to get Husband Points -- tell your wife that she is stinting herself unnecessarily, and should go buy herself some clothes -- and not just functional ones, but pretty, sexy ones that she likes and that make her feel good. I'm married to someone who doesn't willingly buy herself nice things without substantial encouragement, which I am happy to supply. She's worth it, and then some.

During my one and only trip to Australia, I tried to buy her some lingerie. Turns out they use different sizes -- metric? no idea -- and we were unable to get past the question of conversion ratios. One thing I knew: coming home with the wrong size would be a very bad move.

Over the shoulder boulder holder, huh?

At 12:33 AM, Blogger Angie said...

You are right on every count and your wife is very lucky. :)

When I was in middle school, my best friend and I were very "into" the movie Beaches and therefore I was very familiar with the song "Otto Titsling". In my Girl Scout troop during 6th grade we had parties every month and the Valentine's Day party was a lip sync party. The song I performed was "Otto Titsling"--blushing all the way through. That performance was memorialized on video, so I guess my chances for political office are dashed. ;-)

At 5:24 PM, Blogger Don said...

Aha. Another engineer, awesome. It is thoroughly typical of me that this is the post that got my attention. Cheers.

At 5:23 AM, Blogger lissa said...

Another AHA comment!
If you know all the words to a Bette Midler song then you would obviously know the whereabouts of Barry Manilow! Great post!
Thanks for letting me find you!

At 9:41 AM, Blogger RP said...

So, what size did you think you were when you went in there? And how far off did you end up being from where you started?

Either way, doesn't sound like a lot of fun.

At 5:52 PM, Blogger Easy said...

The title of this post caught my eye, as this has always been my wife's term for her bras.

After these many years, the bra purchase is the one she knows she can make without my batting an eye. I've heard the tales, and gotten bitched out for accidentally ripping a 'good' one.


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