Here is how I know there is still work to be done:
Yesterday I became thoroughly enraged by a woman’s ass. I encountered her and her ass several times during my trip to Whole Foods. She was wearing a dress that I don’t think was meant to be a dress (I believe the intended purpose was a sweater vest.), showing a great deal of big fake cleavage, and teetering atop giant shoes that did not particularly fit her.
[Lauren gets up from the couch, puts on her own giant power shoes just because they do fit, I CAN walk in them, and there is lots to do this afternoon.]
Thing is, she had a great figure, but I can say with certainty that her figure was not clad with underwear. Now, I am all for not wearing underwear, but my understanding of the whole concept of not wearing underwear under clingy clothing is that one forgoes underwear so as to avoid the impropriety of displaying evidence of one’s underwear preference in the form of visible panty lines, whale tales, etc. While risque, it is its own form of modesty. Forgoing underwear so that one can wear a dress so tight as to… well, forget the flowery language. I could see her ass crack through the dress. And possibly a dimple or two. And rather than indifference or empathy, I got really fucking mad at her ass. What can I say, it was 5:00 on a Monday, the store was ridiculously busy, and I was getting surly-hungry.
Other tribulations at Whole Foods: a woman nearly threw her kid into my cart, and another woman, who also seemed to follow me, went from one of the store to the other, and all the way through the check out, talking exclusively and constantly about the centerpieces for her wedding. Barf.
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