Saturday, July 17, 2010


Pockets are not attractive. I realize they are very important, essential possibly, for many people to have built into their attire. It’s why we love marsupials so much – pocket envy. We need to have stuff with us. Given the size of women’s purses, the number of pockets in cargo pants, and the inability to get rid of silly little breast pocket on shirts, pockets are clearly here to stay. However, they are ugly and they distort the shape of our silhouettes, weigh down our clothes with stuff, and no matter how neatly they are sewn into the designs, they still look bulky and droopy, and the more you have, the bulkier and droopier you look.

That said, women, your bra is not a pocket.

If you’re going to walk around in microscopic shorts, a tank top and a bra, your bra does not become a place to keep your cell phone, reminder notes, money, lipstick, or other necessities. Get a purse like the rest of us. And if you pull a library card out of your sweaty bosom, you might as well put it right back in there because we are not going to handle that biologically contaminated tit-card. Your girls are round, they are pretty, they are soft and they should be treated with respect. If you put 53¢ in change in your bra, along a wad of bills and your credit card, those breasts end up looking like a refrigerator decked out in too many magnets. I can only imagine what your boobies look like at the end of the day, the indentations, maybe even the paper cuts, and nothing you can wiggle or jiggle will make them look nice when there’s an imprint of a quarter and the large, rectangular fossil of your cell phone visible on that soft flesh. It doesn’t matter if it says Samsung or Blackberry backwards on your melon – that’s just trashy. Get your shit out of your bra, ladies.

Also, men, your underwear do not qualify as a pocket.

If some smart designer started putting pockets in boxers (for surely there’s no comfortable place to put them in briefs), the pocket wouldn’t be right down the center of your waistband. When you reach down there to pull something out – anything out – you should be prepared to be either arrested or ridiculed because nothing down there is something you want to show to a librarian, even if it’s just your library card. Unless your full-time job is at a male strip club, you moonlight doing stripper-grams, and you’re in really high demand, leave it in your pants, you perv. If it’s touched a part of your skin that is warmer than room temperature, we don’t want anything to do with it. I know there’s a long-standing tradition of stuffing socks down there, and that’s fine so long as you don’t whip out that sock and hand it to me. In fact, stuff whatever you want down there, but whatever it is has to stay. You’re stuck with it. Money, credit cards, cell phone, hamster, tapioca, Brilo pad, or whatever your heart (ahem) desires to have down your underwear is between you and your underwear, literally. Keep it to yourself.

So, while I admit I use pockets, though I dislike any more than one or two in my clothing, I don’t like people creating pockets where none exists. And what baffles me the most is why don’t these people put pretend pockets somewhere that isn’t R-rated?

I swear, I don’t know why I serve the public. The public is so creepy.


Cat. said...

Uhm, rolled up cig packs in sleeves? Admittedly rare nowadays,'s that or harking back to keeping my money in my sox when I was a kid. :-)

Manda said...

Warning, this will be absolutely disgusting. Trust me. The worst thing I've encountered about pockets was this scruffy guy, one who looked like bathed only twice a week. He printed some copies from the computer and came to the desk to pay for them and he actually reached into his jeans pocket and got out his change. No big deal there, keeping his money in the appropriate place. But, there must have been a hole in that pocket (that's the only option I even want to contemplate) because along with the coins, he also dropped two hairs on the counter. Hairs that did not fall onto the counter from his uncombed head either.

Yeah, so I did the only thing could do...gave him the three copies for free and he scooped the coins (and hair!) back into his pocket. Luckily a coworker was there and saw it to, so she directed the next patron in line to a different part of the desk while I proceeded to get gloves and every single bottle of cleaner we had in the building.