It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to look at a woman’s chest without the fear of false advertising. In the 90’s – right around the time when I started to notice that there were boobs all around me – I was betrayed, and now I’m being betrayed again. Allow me to elaborate.
When the Wonderbra gained international prominence nearly two decades ago, it changed my life for the worse: never again would I enjoy the luxury of knowing the true character of a given set of boobs before meeting them in person. For men who prefer the view from the back, however, there was no such obstruction, and they continued to live their lives largely unaware of the nefarious class of elaborately-designed underwear that has cast doubt upon every boob in America. That’s all about to change because of the Booty Pop.
It’s a Wonderbra for your bum. I mean, am I going to have to start judging women based on their personalities? This is outrageous.
In the infomercial above, spokes-booty Natasha raves about everything that Booty Pop has done for her:
“What I love about Booty Pop is the lift, and the shape, and the roundness.”
Well, Natasha, what I hate about Booty Pop is the damn, dirty lies. I can’t speak for all men when I say this, but why, Natasha, why? I’m sure your booty is just fine the way it is. Variety is the spice of booty.
I’m not going to comment about what this means for the women’s movement or anything. I’m just saying that if I get lucky and then find myself face to face with a Booty Pop, I’m going to be confused – just like you would be confused if I walked around with a cucumber in my pants. If you can’t be honest, at least be nice: when you want to trick a dude into thinking you’re hotter than you are, use beer. Trust us, it works.
Booty Pop, you’re on the Shit List until my apparati stop working.