The Far Fetched Fashionista


I want to go on record and admit that I am no catalog model. That is unless you’re talking about inserting me in a Tractor Supply flyer under saddle accessories. I’m well aware God parlays His talents and blessings to all of us differently. I’m glad He values the heart the most, because the rest of me needs an overhaul. I once told a young woman that God gave me two choices in life. She asked, “What were they?”. I said, “I could either be very handsome or very rich.” Puzzled she blurted out, “What did you choose?” I didn’t bother giving her an answer, what was the point?

My wife is always trying to improve how I look. I tell her trying to do anything with me would be like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. But as my greatest critic, it is her influence that determines what I should and should not wear. She calls my bathing suit the “Speed-DON’T” because the Speedo for me will NEVER, NEVER do. I won’t argue that point. Proof is in the highly coincidental occurrence that each time we go to our local public pool, within minutes we always end up swimming alone. While I may not be the epitome of a “fashionista,” or the astute purveyor of glam, I am cognizant of what looks bad!

As I watch people at local stores, I fear the icy winter blast of the past four months has addled or frozen more than a few brain cells on what is and what is not “proper” attire. Shopping tonight at the grocery store, a couple with two small children in tow were walking towards me on my aisle. I’m not passing judgment, in fact as Sergeant Joe Friday used to say, All I want is “Just the Facts,” So I’ll give them to you. The woman was a mere 15 pounds from achieving (DMV) Department of Motor Vehicle status. For me that is not an issue. However, if one is as horizontally and vertically challenged as this, choose the correct type of fabrics, accouterments, and/or tarps, to minimize your curves. Case in point, I don’t wear anything green lest I look like a pool table or the Irish version of the Kool Aide Man. I don’t wear banded shirts because I’ll look like a swollen can of refrigerator biscuits. But the get-up this woman chose to wear tonight left me without words. She sported a casual t-shirt that was tucked into skin tight jeans, but that’s where her normal ended. The pants she wore sported so many gaping holes, it gave the impression she barely survived the Hindenburg disaster. Her ripped and frayed attire was further enhanced by wearing the smallest pink sequined tutu. The micro ballerina skirt unabashedly made her look like the lead dancer in the Disney classic, Fantasia. I know this was her fashion choice because her partner and children were neat, well groomed, and intact.

Despite the multi-colored fashion statement, she never once exhibited a smidgen of embarrassment for how she was dressed. I’ve heard over and over again opinions people offer on how to improve America, but after today I have my own suggestion. How about we give out mirrors!

About enthusiasmiscontagious

I am an individual who analyzes all facets of life in the hopes of squeezing out some of the humorous parts.
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