Girly Woes Part Deux

Bulletproof by Mutemath
Save My Soul by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy
Midnight On The Interstate (Live) by Trample By Turtles



Since I had so much fun writing my Girly Woes post back in April, I'm back for another round! Maybe this will become a regular series...or maybe not...I don't exactly have the best tract record of posting new blog posts lately.

Anywho's its...

Bras:

Boys, look away. Actually you know what? Don't. You should know what kind of suffering we go through with these instruments of torture.

I hate bra shopping. Hate, despise, loathe, and abhor it. I don't care what size you are finding a decent, comfortable, reasonably price bra is going to be about as successful as trying to find the lost city of El Dorado. For example, I'm a plus size girl, but I have a not so plus sized bust. So while I need a little bit bigger band, my actual cup size isn't that big. Needle in a hay stack much?

And if I do happen to find one that fits okay, several things always conspire against me:

1. The straps refuse to stay up, AND ALWAYS FALL DOWN AT THE WORST POSSIBLE TIME. Like the middle of a church service for example. I'm so sure that the thing my pastor wants to see while looking across the sanctuary is me yanking my flipping bra straps back into place.
2. There's no padding, which results in me looking like it's a frigid day in January but it's still August (if you catch my drift.). Headlights, ahoy.
3. So much padding that the bra firmly lodges the girls under my chin, thereby spilling any secret Victoria ever had.
4. Cups that don't stay in place which results in a dreaded phenomena called the "Under Boob". My cups then don't so much runneth over, but spilleth out the bottom.
5. Underwires. They're a necessary evil because my ladies need the support, but much like straps, these little instruments of evil like to give up the ghost at the most inopportune times. Like right after lunch when I have no chance of running home to change. So I'm stuck for the rest of my workday with a dagger digging into my poor, defenseless girl.
6. The bra fits perfectly, there's just the right amount of padding, no under boob, straps are actually stay put, but...BUT it's hot pink, polka dotted and/or covered in what looks like a solid inch of lace thereby insuring that there's no chance I can ever wear it under anything but the bulkiest of sweaters.
7. The bra has all the perfect components, is a nice neutral color, with minimal to no lace, but when I take a look at the price tag I'm all "Hell's bells, no!" because it's $69.99 (and don't give me that "you get what you pay for" crap because nothing with so little fabric should cost me that much. I refuse to pay that much for a decent pair of running shoes.)

So guys (if I haven't scared you off already), is it any wonder that as soon we get home for the evening, we're whipping off our double barrel sling shots as fast as we can?

Dearest Decent Brassieres, 

If you don't stop hiding out like a long lost city gold, I may have to pull out my inner 70's feminist and burn the lot of you.

P.S. I can only speak from my experience with my own small to medium girls. I know you ladies who are more generously endowed have a whole different set of woes. You have all my sympathy and love.


Cat's Eye Eyeliner:

I want cat's eye liner on my eyelids so bad, but I utterly suck at it. No seriously, I do.

I've tried ever so many techniques, liquid and stick liners, and Youtube videos, but it never helps. I always end up with the same results. I wind up looking like Hatchet Face from Cry Baby.

 (Preach, girl!)

Dear Cat's Eye, 

Why must you hate me so much when all I want to do is love you?

British Accents:

I love British accents. Like as much as I hate bra shopping on the opposite end of the spectrum lies my love of British accents. Be it Scotch, English, Irish, or Welsh, I don't care. I adore them all.

As my roommie and I have discussed in detail, if you're a guy and you have a British accent, you're automatically 65% more attractive then any other dude on the planet (you're 50% more attractive if you have a Kiwi or Australian accent, FYI). You could be giving me the stock market report or a mathematical dissertation, and I would sit there with my hands clasped under my chin making doe eyes at you. Now I know you must be saying "Manda? Really? C'mon."

Yes, really, and to support my theory, here's my favorite Brit talking to us about Einstein's Theory of Relativity, a little geometry, and a dash of Pi. Have a listen, and see if you don't just swoon a bit.

See? See?! SEEEEEEEE????!!! I may have enjoyed math in school more if I had it explained to me like that...or I would have been too distracted by that face, and still have done poorly...

Need some more proof of British attractiveness?? *throws confetti and plies you with pics of attractive Brits*

(Ben, you're officially off the market so I'll just admire

you from afar...but in a totally non-creepy way.)

(Funny and Irish? Um, yes please!)

(Colin, you'll always be my Mr. Darcy...)

(Tom Burke, everyone. Have you seen him as Athos on The Musketeers?!

 Oh. My. Giddy. Aunt.)

(Out of possible 10 out of 10, I give David an 11...see what I did there? 

Huh? Huh? Oh, the Whovian puns!)

(Idris...just...whoa...and have you heard his rumbling raspy voice? 

No. Words.)

(Don't worry Richard, I'll be your Margaret Hale any day...)

(Robert Carlyle, you are one seriously attractive Scottish Silver Fox, but you are very happily married so I would never try to break that up.)

(I feel a wee bit cougarish even putting John on here since I'm a good

11+ years older than him, but just look at him!)

(My sweet Tom...just  waiting for you to decide that Taylor 

is the wrong Yank for you...)

Okay, now that I've proven myself, you may be saying "So what'S the girly woe here? All I'm seeing is a crazy woman fangirling over some dudes." 

Well dear reader, I'm so glad you asked. The woe here is that I live on the frick frackin' wrong side of the Pond, and have zero access to such lovely manliness!!!!

Dear British men, 

Northwest Montana is lovely this time of year. How about spending your holidays here and letting me win your hearts with baked goods?

And this conclude my second round of Girly Woes. If any of you ladies have some suggestions that I should cover in my possible next edition of Girly Woes, hit me up in the comments! I would love to hear from you!

 (What??? How did that get there? Whoopsy, my finger must of slipped.)