I write to you today with a heavy heart and a heavy flow (just kidding, but I AM especially bitchy today, so beware!) But mostly, with a heavy heart. Well, not JUST a heavy heart, but also a great deal of confusion and perplexment (yes, perplexment is now a word!)
Is a push-up bra the answer to world hunger?
Are g-strings more practical than thongs?
How do you wear nipple tassels but still keep it tasteful and wholesome?
Some may argue that it has to do with a woman's vanity. As a straight and severely jealous (to the point of practically needing to be locked up with a straight jacket) biddy myself, I understand this sentiment. One can not HELP but gaze enviously at woman who has been blessed with perfect tits, a perfect washboard stomach, a perfect face and who is just all around, you know, perfect. However, I am not going to sit here and lie to you and say that this makes me happy for them or that it makes me happy in general.
(*said in an English accent*)"Oh, Adriana, I am so HAPPY for you that you turned out to be the perfect human being, carved by angels and shitting flowers. Here I am just little old me with my cellulite-ridden ass and bacne haunting my life (even though I am at least fifteen years past puberty) but I rest peacefully knowing that you do not suffer from the human condition of blemishes, fat and poop that smells like, well, poop."
Yes, let us continue this elaborate ruse that we are celebrating other women's beauty by watching this ridiculous fashion show year after year.
Yes, let us continue to celebrate a mindless, pointless fashion show that makes us hate being naked in front of even our pet hermit crabs.
AND, for the love of everything holy, let us continue to celebrate the Taylor Swift disease that is far worse than any Ebola outbreak...