Dating back to 2600 BCE Mesopotamia, bangles have been the ultimate feminine accessory: symbols of luck, beauty, and undeniable sexual energy. Their timelessness and versatility has allowed them to be reinvented endlessly, ensuring that in all historical periods, there is at least one bangle baddie (Cleopatra, Mother Theresa, Ice Spice, my mom). Praised for their cuntiness and sex appeal, baddies with bangles have dominated the social scene for decades, turning heads with their jingling decorated wrists. However, history often neglects to acknowledge their one weakness: handjobs.
History must face it eventually, as all bangle-wearing beauties must, so I am here to tell my story. I am here to speak my bangle truth.
It all started at the beginning of last summer, when I purchased my first set of bangles. Instantly, I was hooked. High off the sassy jingling of my own wrists and the compliments of older women, I soon began to hunt for bangles each time I passed a thrift or vintage store. With time my wrist stack grew, and consequently, so did my sex appeal.
By the time it reached fall semester, the sultry clinking of my own two wrists began to attract quite some male attention. And who am I to ignore that? So, I took my pick of the worthy and we got down to business. Hehe. Nice, right?
WRONG. Very quickly, I found myself completely unable to use the powers of sex appeal the bangles had unlocked for me.
It was awful. It started when we were making out. We kept trying to ignore the vague jingling, but it was impossible. He kept flinching when I tried to run my hands through his hair and the bangles kept getting caught. Then, they were clinking directly into his ears, so he kept trying to turn the music up. And then we got to the handjob… It was horrible. The jingling of the bangles was absolutely unbearable. The sound was so reminiscent of Santa’s sleigh I couldn’t stop thinking about whether this would get me put on the naughty list.
He never called me again. Cockblocked by my own wrist.
So, that is my truth. That is the truth of every beautiful woman in history who loved to accessorize. History neglects to tell you that there has never been bangle fragments found near male pelvic remains, but not me. I offer you my bangle truth.
[article not based on real events]