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 friday, january 05Clothing challenged  Damn! I'm sorry, but this girl thing can be such a pain in the tush when it comes to the clothing on one's back or the relative lack thereof. So much of it seems to be a form of polite community approved bondage gear.Take pantyhose. Pure evil. A late twentieth, early twenty first century torture device. I can't think of anything I'd like to do less, first thing every morning than struggle into a pair of pantyhose. Crotch rot and diaper rash will be your best friend. That's what those nasty nylon sausage casings will deliver. Sure, they can give you a sleek svelte look with all variety of tummy trimming trussing, but try taking a deep breath, baby. You might pass out. Or one of those new fangled push up bras? Nothing like having everything present and accounted for, but one millimetre further and you might smother yourself. High heels? A lifetime of back pain and pinched toes. Perhaps I protest too much. Working from home erodes your standards. Perhaps I should say that it has eroded mine. Tom came over to pick up a few screen shots awhile back, before the holidays. He called to say that he was on his way over. I had a niggling feeling that I'd forgotten something, but couldn't put my finger on it before the doorbell rang. I opened the door and immediately realized what it was. It was my outfit. My top half was adorned with a favourite black sweater, but that wasn't the problem. My bottom half was adorned with baby blue pyjama bottoms littered a pattern of large pink roses. I look like I had just mugged a very large, ugly, chintz couch. As I said, clothing challenged.
Web Trumps. The new game on the block. If you're keeping track, well, It's back. Yesterday? Kill your vacuum! |
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