Dear Victoria Secret

Dear Victoria,
Please stop e-mailing me.  The gig is up.  I have no more secrets to hide, I have stretchy skin and toddlers.  Your e-mails and catalogues are of no need to me because your stuff is not made for real women.  It's made for slutty teenage stick girls, with boobs.  You leave little to the imagination and I doubt you have any secrets at all.
After four kids, I want something more than tantalizing underwear.  I want something I can bend over in without 'the ladies' popping out.  Your swim wear is a disaster unless I agree to just lay flat on my back.  Something I'm sure you're advertising.... I don't want to have to go see a waxing Nazi to be able to wear your swim bottoms.  Forget landing strip, I will have to explain where babies come from.
Your underwear is skimpy as anything and rarely fits well.  Surprising, considering you need to take out a second mortgage to buy a few bras.  As far as the secret goes:  My husband watched me push four giant miracles out of my 'special' area.   We have no secrets and even if lingerie didn't make him giggle like a 10 year old, I'm not sure how much I need to turn him on....Did I mention we have four kids?

So please stop the e-mails...I'm good

P.S.  Please keep working on your sweat pant line.  I don't need anything written on my ass. 


What real moms think....

I knew I shouldn't have put these in the dryer.  Shit!

Uhhhhhggg! I hate sand!

I just want to nap! Sigh.


I'm sorry?!  I can't hear you when you're whining.


Did he just pull his pants down and pee in front of everyone?  Awesome.


You need the toilet again?!


Now I really need to go...but there is no way I can leave you all unsupervised.


It's a lake.  You just sit down and pee anywhere.  Like this...


Yikes.  Forgot deodorant, again!


 Please don't ask for any more treats! You're giving me a migraine.

 
I'm going to seriously loose my mind if you take those Doritos in the pool.

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