“Look at that,” I encouraged my wife as we sat quietly eating our food court lunch. I slowly, in disgust, lowered my interesting Texican Whopper, complete with a spicy sauce and some sort of fried bean hash brown creation. As she looked, Nina put down her fork, trying to keep a cold piece of corn from shooting across the heavily trafficked floor. The food wasn’t the problem. The sight was. In fact, the brief glance was almost enough to ruin the meal for the both of us. Frightening. Vomitous. Not to mention blinding. The terror in question was neither the first nor the last unsolicited view of “shopping split.”
Succinctly stated, shopping split is my name for the female version of carpenter’s crack – only more severe. It occurs most frequently at malls, grocery stores, cafes, and open air markets. Its victims are mostly vain, plump, and precariously unaware of their surroundings. They most likely have hair color from a bottle, and the majority of shopping split cases are reported as a result of the combination of denim and high heels than any other fashion mixture known to man.
For those of you who just landed on planet earth, according to an urban dictionary website, carpenter’s crack (aka plumber’s smile or coin slot) is, “a view of the top of the buttocks and gluteal cleft while a man’s pants descend due to bending over (because it frequently happens to overweight carpenters, plumbers, etc.)”
This particular case was an egregious one. Because I don’t always carry a tape measure with me, the conservative, naked eye estimate had to suffice and amounted to an easy five, if not six inches. More disturbing than that was the lack of evidence of any undergarments, thus blowing the door wide open for a myriad of hygiene related snags. Thankfully, this occurrence was not accompanied by the hideous tramp stamp marking.
Shopping split in Portugal is an ever growing epidemic. Nearly all the ladies here seem to wear a size 6 when they should just buy an 8. The problem accelerates with hip huggers and fabric thrifty blouse designers. European tailors are continually making the area from the crotch to the belt line smaller and smaller in both men’s and women’s pants, while the shirttail has all but become extinct.
So, Senhora Shopping Split continued eating, being refreshed by the cool breeze on her backside. Slightly frustrated and bizarrely curious, I asked my modest wife, “Does she not know? Can she not feel that?” Others were beginning to take notice also as heads turned and nods increased. Oblivious to the half moon she was shining to anyone walking by, yet keen to the whispers and funny looks that increased, Mrs. Moonie’s ears must have been on fire.
In the end, she decided to do something about it. She treated the symptoms rather than the problem, and she did so mainly because that was all that she could do at that moment. However, I fear that she, along with so many others, will remain in denial and live with shopping split forever.
The incident ended quietly yet defiantly when she stood to her feet, grabbed the belt loop located at 6 o’clock on the waistband, and heaved (much more than ho’d). She successfully, although momentarily closed the crack while managing to lift herself ever so slightly from the earth. Crisis diverted. Case closed…until her daughter drops her toy in the parking deck.
Written by my favorite guest blogger. Tell me….do you guys ever see Shopping Split? Or maybe you’re a proud wearer? One just about has to walk around the malls looking at the ceiling if you don’t want to see every present females backside. Please explain this phenomenon to me.