Anne's Fashion Tips For Someone Who'll Never Read Them

I am not perfect, no. Not even close. But I do consider myself to be considerate to a fault. The black slacks I wore to work today were sloppy because they're too big for me in the crotch and the thighs (they're Old Navy, whaddaya want from me) and I looked more like a janitor than an office worker person, but at least they weren't too small. Pants that are too small render one looking like ten lbs of sausage in a 5 lb bag with your junk poking out here and there for the world to see, and that is an assault on eyes of the public. I wouldn't do that to you, people.

Yesterday was a miserable rainy day, and I found myself walking behind the woman pictured here who was struggling for, yet not acheiving, what could be considered fashionable had she taken a few extra steps. Nice hair? Check. Nice jacket and bag? Check, check. What ended up happening to her from the waist down made her uncomfortable and my eyes bleed. She had what appears to be a large butt, yes, but it's an average American-sized ass, really. My problem with her ass is not it's size, but it's lack of containment within her skirt. If you have a high and tight butt like a gymnast with two perky grapefruits for buttocks, then you don't need to read on. If you're like the rest of us, and your ass has character like sagging, cellulite, anomalies here and there, then you may not toss on this skirt without Spanx (lycra girdle) or similar type of smoothing mechanism. Why? Because people are looking at your butt. Especially men. And men are gross, and they don't deserve to see that much of your butt unless you're sleeping with them. Or if they paid you. And if every dude on the street paid you for a glance at your butt, you'd never have to walk anywhere again because you could afford to pay people to walk for you.

Let us now zoom in on her feet, shall we?

Ugh, what we women suffer through for fashionable footwear! The poor thing obviously wore some unforgivably torturous shoes prior to yesterday which plagued her ankles with blisters, so she had to go clod-hopping around town in the chilly rain with the backless mule. But what about us, and our eyes? What about me? A few bandaids, some socks and sneaks--while not techincally fashionable--would have been a much better for choice for her comfort-wise and fashion-wise because blisters like that will ruin any outfit. And the eyesight of the public. Or just me, because I'm an a-hole. But you're reading this blog, so that makes you an a-hole too. I know I bring out the rotten in you and you love it.