As the weather turns warm, won't it just be delightful to slip into a lovely pair of loose, cottony cargo capri pants? The kind with a drawstring top -- roomy and comfy, that lets cool air circulate deliciously around your skin? Not low-rise ones -- yuck! -- but the ones that cinch at the waist, flattering the derriere and emphasizing your delectable hourglass figure, making your every graceful step an encomium to the glory of the female body?You'll do that, won't you?
Please?
9 comments:
Personally, i think the low-rise craze is an attempt by Gay Fashion Designers to make the female form so unattractive that straight men will turn gay rather than view one more 'muffin top' - the polite way of saying 'ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag'.
Stretch marks seriously seem to be the new tattoos. Combine that with a freshly-infected navel piercing, and these girls turn any innocent trip to the shopping mall into the climax of 'Raiders Of The Lost Ark'.
The Aussie expression for 'muffin top' seems to have developed into the blunter 'Gunt'. I think you can figure out the etymology for yourself.
I remember when hip-huggers were first fashionable -- what, 1974 or so? They were worn, in those times before the state of permanent adolescence we find ourselves in now, only by girls in my age cohort: young and mid-teenagers -- never by women older than about 16. The bare-midriff thing was unimaginable; the hip-hugger was worn with a body-shirt or a leotard that clasped (oh, so intriguingly!) between the thighs. The overall effect was of an exaggeratedly long waist.
The fashion was followed a year or two later by the opposite extreme: very high-waisted trousers that cinched just below the ribcage. That was the moment of my hormonal awakening and my never-ending fascination with the panoply of the female caboose. That blip in the fashion parade was what taught me how beautiful they can be -- all heart-shaped and rounded and infinitely varied. My God, what a fabulous compliment those high-waisted slacks were to the well-proportioned woman!
Goodness, excuse me for a few minutes, will you? I'll be right back...
You write with such passion for the female form that even i'm feeling slightly giddy seeing them through your eyes, which is certainly more appealing to my mental senses than Sir Mix-A-Lot.
If the blogging thing doesn't pan out, you could scrape together a living writing softcore erotica for a risque vintage publishing house with a name like 'Black Lace Books'.
Intimate Confessions of a Teenage Hip-Hugger Honey
HAH! Simon, I'll recruit you to Our Side yet. The female form is worth it, thrust me!
D'ye reckon there's a Chalkhills Affinity Group for Unreformed Homosexuals Who Loathe Ryan Fucking Anthony?
You'd fit right the fuck in.
What's actually happening is Simon's evocative descriptions of "muffin tops" and "gunts" and stretch marks and ten pounds of shit are making me ponder butt piracy.
Sounds like someone got a new LL Bean catalog in the mail. I can just picture the coming scene in your house, when your wife catches you with three or four LL Bean catalogs in your briefcase.
Do you know, I actually have an L.L. Bean credit card? As in, it's a regular Visa card, but each use earns me Bean Bucks that can be redeemed at a Bean store. Passing strange.
No, this one was occasioned not by Commerce, but by a hallway encounter with
A memorably comely lass
Possess'd of callipygian ass
as the Bard so aptly put it. She wore the trousers under discussion, and it occurred to me they should be universally mandatory. I'll happily wear anything in return.
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