And an educated consumer realizes at SYMS to close your eyes during the trip to their gang-style dressing room. It's unforgettable for all the wrong reasons, that is for certain.
The Hasidic woman in the open stall next to me had more pit hair than my ex-boyfriend. I'm all for au natural and whatnot, but if you're gonna go Tarzan under the arms, why bother with the freakin' wig on the dome piece? Bliccky bliccky doo doo. Aye, 'tis depressing.
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