How Fashion Harms Us All

Clothing stores are where women go to feel bad about themselves by trying on clothes that don’t fit.  And they do it in a cubbyhole under fluorescent lights that would make Angelina Jolie look like Phyllis Diller.  If those stores wanted women to feel good about their bodies in those clothes, shouldn’t they make the dressing rooms more appealing?  Some mood lighting, soft music, maybe a cardboard cutout of Brad Pitt with an approving look on his face.

And only two kinds of people work in these stores.  Girls who want the employee discount, and guys who want to meet the girls… or the other guys.

My favorite is the security guard.  You know he’s there trying to hook a hottie with the uniform.  Unfortunately he usually looks like Barney Feif on a bad teeth day.

I don’t like the fashion industry because I think it does more harm than good.  And my girlfriend knows this.  Yet she drags me along whenever she can get one over on me.  We’ll be out running general errands or something and it’s “Oh, can we stop in this one store, I need to return something.”  And it’s over, I’ve been sucked in again.

I have two purposes on these shopping trips.  One is to have an opinion on things I really don’t care about.  Why do I not care?  Because she’s beautiful to me no matter what she wears.  (Cue: Awwww….)  And even if I do have an opinion, she will contradict it.

Her: What do you think of this?
Me: It makes your butt look big and skin kind of green.
Her: Really?  I think it’s cute.  I’m getting it.

My second job is to hold all her crap.  She’s goes shopping all the time by herself, so I know she can hold stuff.  But the second we walk in she hands me her purse.  Then as she finds things they all end up in my arms as well.  And since she’s not weighed down, the little weight buzzer in her head that says, “Enough clothes!  Bankruptcy imminent!” never goes off.  So she keeps going until I tell her my arms are falling asleep.

When she finally hits the dressing room, I get to stand outside.  And it always seems to be in the lingerie area, so I look like a pervert too.  This is the only time I want to hold her purse.  That’s the signal that I’m not just a weirdo hanging out in the panty section.

I think stores would do well by themselves if they had a waiting area for the men.  Somewhere to sit at least.  A couch, some TVs, a cooler of beer.  Maybe a two way mirror into the dressing rooms.  Keep men engaged and they’ll be more willing to hang out and let their ladies shop longer.

In the meantime, no more shopping for me.

Phil Johnson

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