A Fugging in Kentucky

Sometimes I wish my cell phone included a camera. Most of the time I don't, but sometimes... Like yesterday, I wish I could've whipped out a phone and taken a photo to show you and then that would pretty much be the whole post. "A picture is worth..." and all that. But since I didn't have a camera on me, phone or otherwise, I'll have to try to tell you about it. No, I take that back. I don't want to talk behind someone's back, so I'll try to tell HER about it. To the woman in front of me in line at the pharmacy yesterday: Sweetie. Sweetie! I feel so bad for you because you must not have a friend in the world. I know that because no true friend would have let you leave the house in what you were wearing. Let me tell you something as one middle-aged woman with a generous ass to another, ok? There are some garments that simply should not exist. They don't look good on anyone, not even tall, willowy supermodel types, or tight-bodied teenage girls. And anything that would look bad on a supermodel has no business being on this earth because the rest of us don't stand a chance with it. One such garment is clearly that pair of pants you had on. Faded neon-red knit track pants with a wide once-white stripe down the outside of each leg - not flattering to pretty much anyone. Faded neon-red knit CROPPED track pants with a wide once-white stripe down the outside of each leg - that's just WRONG. I'm pretty sure the existence of those pants is straining some law of physics almost to its breaking point. Then when you finish off The Pants with a stretched-out t-shirt in a clashing shade of red, clunky white gym shoes and charcoal grey argyle socks - argyle!! Merciful Zeus!! - well, Sweetie, it just made me want to take you by the hand and be your shopping buddy, because You Can Do Better. Seriously. You DESERVE better. Everyone does. Unfortunately, by the time my brain stopped bleeding and the hysterical blindness wore off, you were gone. But if by some chance you ever read this, email me! We'll do lunch. We'll shop. We'll buy you some clothes that FIT (say it with me: "structure") and a full-length mirror, then we'll have a ritual burning of the abomination known as The Pants. The world will thank us for it. Hugs and smoochies, Me DAT: "Autumn Sumac: Paintified" (clickable if you want to see it larger in a new window)