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I was a fashion don't
Once upon a time, I was a hippie. I wore bells on my ankles, flowers in my hair, and long flowing skirts. (I drew the line at patchouli. That shit's nasty.)
Then, in 1996 or so, I reinvented myself. In those early post-hippie years, I had a fashion sense that could only be described as Born Yesterday. You know that movie where the guy just appears on Earth as a fully-grown, naked man? Yeah, like that.
It was the 90s; all a girl needed was black pants (maybe a size or two too small...small pants TOTALLY make you look thinner you know). I mastered the make-up and hair: metallic eye shadow, liner, dark matte lipstick, and twists of hair held in place with a dozen teeny tiny clips.
The problem: I'm a generous D type of gal. Shirts of the era were fitted and hit right at the waist. This was major challenge, especially coupled with my too-small black pants.
After college, I moved to NYC. Luckily, I had friends who were not recovering hippies. They graciously loaned me cast-offs left scattered on their beds.
One night, as we readied ourselves in my A-cup friend's apartment, my shirt got vetoed. After deliberation, my friends agreed on an A-cup-sized green T-shirt, with just a hint of sheen.
I squeezed into it, thinking that I could have been a factory product tester for this shirt. I absolutely pushed the limits of the tensile integrity of that cotton-nylon blend. Getting it over my boobs involved reaching in and adjusting my boobs back into correct boob position. I had to move each one around to make sure my nipples weren't cross-eyed, or one looking up, one down.
I no longer had breasts. I had a bosom, a bust. I had that large, firm, singular tube of mammaric flesh that belongs on the bodies of old timey nurses and housekeepers.
The shirt just barely grazed the waistband of my too small black pants. If I moved or managed a breath, I had a dreaded flesh tire.
"I feel self conscious," I complained.
"Don't! You look great!" they lied.
As we walked around the block, the words came at me from a dark corner of the sidewalk:
"Damn! That's the biggest ass I've ever seen on a white girl!" (I realize this has nothing to do with the shirt. I was so stuffed into my clothes that the guy had to pick something for his commentary.)
"I'm going home immediately."
"He totally wasn't talking about you!" ← Lie.
"He could have been talking about any one of us." ← Lies, lies, lies.
"It's a compliment!" Fuck the fuck off!
I went home and Hulked my way out of my clothes. Scratching at the deep purplish impression left around my waist, I breathed deeply for the first time in hours. I may have cried into my pillow, but I learned a lesson:
Don't listen to your girlfriends. They want to look better than you.
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Comments (21)
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Report Fri Dec 28, 2012 - 11:09 amThank you for an additional good post. Exactly where else could anybody get that kind of information and facts in these a perfect way of writing? I’ve a presentation subsequent week, and I’m around the appear for like facts.Reply -
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Tue Oct 2, 2012 - 3:37 am
Yes yes yes I so hear you girlfriends lie as you said they want to look better then you so if you want to look good ask damn there is no one who will give you and honest answer doesn't that suck...........lolReply -
Report Mon Oct 1, 2012 - 4:46 pmAm too - well endowed - and have wished for A cup or even B cup flattishness and being able to carry off the Downton Abbey 20's long beads 'lay flat across my chest' (it will sadly never happen!) style. I commend you (all) to my friend @wtf-eek's blog for celebrity fashion disaster commentary. Every week on a Friday. Don't apply your black eyeliner of mascara before reading though. It's weeping-with-laughter hilarious! www.wtffashionshark.comReply
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Report Fri Sep 28, 2012 - 1:30 amI have TOTALLY gotten that "Dang, You built like a sistah!" hollered at me from across the street. NOW I know why. 20 years later. Uh. Not sure I should thank you.Reply
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Thu Sep 27, 2012 - 12:18 am
Mean girls! Pure bosom envy .Cross-eyed nipples and singular tube of mammaric flesh , can't quit laughing , going to get me in trouble, I'm going to think of one of those at some totally inappropriate times and just lose it.Reply -
1 reply, Last reply by Allison Hart on Thu Sep 27, 2012 at 5:09 pm
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Thu Sep 27, 2012 - 5:51 am
This is why bridesmaid dresses were invented: Brides don't want their fabulous-jugged BFFs stealing the show.Reply -
1 reply, Last reply by Allison Hart on Thu Sep 27, 2012 at 5:08 pm
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Report Thu Sep 27, 2012 - 8:32 ampatchouli is nasty shit. I'm an A cup friend. I'm sorry. But I would have told you that your boobage was a mammary tube of bosomness.Reply
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1 reply, Last reply by Allison Hart on Thu Sep 27, 2012 at 5:07 pm
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Report Thu Sep 27, 2012 - 2:25 pmWOW!!! This info very interesting, I like it:)Reply
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Report Thu Sep 27, 2012 - 9:12 amAnd when you find that friend who says, whoa let's change up that outfit, you know you've found your best friend for life. Hillarious post by the way!Reply
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Report Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 11:21 pmI once told a roommate to wear her white dress, because she looked so great in white. She didn't, she looked like death warmed over. And I have a pic to prove it. I look stunning in the pic, btw.Reply
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Report Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 6:49 pmAwww, hell to the no! That is hilarious. "Singular tube of mammaric flesh"? I died!Reply
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2 replies, Last reply by The Bearded Iris on Wed Sep 26, 2012 at 10:53 pm
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Report Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 10:46 pmHilarious post. Aaah - the era of black pants... The comment from the group of "men of color" fan club made me laugh out loud in my shared faculty office. I have a very blonde/blue-eyed friend who was told she had a "big pink ass." Menfolk.Reply
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Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 10:16 pm
I come from NJ. A place where tight pants are the norm. I haven't outgrown that. I can't handle comfy, right-sized pants. It's ingrained (literally) in my mind and my midsection that I should forever be hoisting a waist band over a muffin top struggling to be free. I remain a don't.Reply -
Report Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 9:23 pmOMG....one time a bunch of us were getting ready to go out. One friend was such a priss and took forever. Right before we headed out the door and after she had changed a million times, my Bestie and I saw that she had a hole in her armpit, we just looked at each and and did a slight shake of our heads, that we wouldn't tell her. And off we went for a fun night out. I know we are Bit#hes.Reply
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Report Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 8:40 pmThat just sounds like A cup SABOTAGE. (Listen all y'all...it's a sabotage!)Reply
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Report Wed Sep 26, 2012 - 7:57 pmMaybe your friends were just twats?Reply
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