Week 16D

I am of the opinion that in life, absolutes do exist. I want to discuss one of those absolutes now. Fact: There are some clothes that we fat chicks just shouldn't wear. However, somewhere along the line a whole bunch of fat chicks just did not get the message, and I'm seeing them everywhere I turn. So, I am appointing myself as Proclaimer of Portly Panache.

First of all, stay away from those low-cut, tight-fitting jeans. Some hips just don't need to be hugged. The wide pockets that start half-way down the old bum cheek and end on the hammy makes most look like their sides should be lined with theatres...we're talking BROADway! Couple that with the tight thighs and flare from the knee to the ankle, and the look just doesn't work, ladies!

Second, along with those low-cut jeans, lose the high-cut tight shirts. Come on, most midriffs should not be seen in public! And you can forget about the belly-button piercings. For them to be seen, most women have to use something akin to the ball you would put on a trailer hitch! And while I'm at it, please stop tattooing the "small" or your backs (you know, the place where your waist is supposed to be), or anything on your trunk or anywhere else for that matter. The tattoo morphs into an image that looks like the de-evolution of a shrink-dink.

Third, if it looks like underwear, it IS underwear. Please wear it UNDER something else. Those little scraps of silk with the angel hair pasta straps have been around a long time. They are not a new fashion trend. My grandmother wore one. It's called a CAMISOLE! IT'S UNDERWEAR! Don't leave home without it COVERED UP!

Fourth, ditch the tight shirts with the billboard messages stretched across them. Everyone has to take pills for motion sickness just to read the darn things...up and down and up and down. The words get stretched like comic strip characters on silly putty, sometimes to the point of not even being recognized as anything in written form much less English. Trust me, gals, when people stare, they aren't trying to read the words.

Last but certainly not least, one word says it all...THONG! Bun floss on a Reubenesque rump is an absolute trespass against humanity. But, if you just have to wear it, make positively sure they do not ride your haunches above the waistband of your low-slung jeans. The protruding flesh looks like a distressed Vienna Sausage, for crying out loud.