Shocking, right?
If I were a supermodel, how would I have time to write such witty observations about meaningless things? I would be much too busy purging and traveling around the world with my boobs.
This is really not a rant about supermodels. I'm sure some of them are as lovely on the outside as they are on the inside. Wait. I said that wrong. Anyway, this rant is directed at companies who try to trick me into thinking I am a supermodel. You know who you are.
The other day I was innocently flipping through a secret catalog that had bras, undies, and other clothes for sale. The secret catalog will remain unnamed because it's secret, and I am an angel for not sharing what secret catalog it is.
The deals were amazing and everything in that catalog looked fantastic! I became absolutely convinced I would be unable to live another day without a sweater dress. I wanted it in camel, but they were sold out. I tried black, but no luck. I settled for winter white which happened to be the one the SUPERMODEL was wearing in the secret catalog.
My winter white sweater dress arrived in the mail. I gleefully tore into the package like Steve Martin in The Jerk. Reminiscent of the scene when he's squealing, "The new phone books are here! The new phone books are here!," I cheered, "My new sweater dress is here! My new sweater dress is here!" I am such a chump.
First of all, the new sweater "dress" was really more like a long top. My voluptuous bottom was covered but my hamstrings were left exposed. This phased me less than the fact that I could see through the "dress." Seriously, is seeing pubic hairs through a dress not one of the more disgusting images you can envision?
I put on my spanks (because Oprah told me every woman needs a pair of spanks, and I will do whatever Oprah tells me to do). Well, spanks did not help the situation. Now instead of flaunting my thighs and nether regions, I looked like I inexplicably wanted to wear a long sweater over a strange pair of beige biker shorts. Who would wear that?? Not Oprah, I assure you!
I picked up the secret catalog to see if the SUPERMODEL in the picture was showing off her pubic hairs. I found the page and, I kid you not, she was sitting down with her legs crossed! I'll never know if that SUPERMODEL had pubes or not. (I'm thinking SUPERMODELS only have hair on their heads, but that's just my suspicion.)
That's the sad moment when I realized (for the billionth time, though I always seem to forget until the clothes arrive in the mail) that the secret catalog is full of clothes being worn by SUPERMODELS.
Sure, that string bikini is cute...on a 100 pound SUPERMODEL. Put my well used body into one of those things and it looks like my butt crack is actually trying to chew up and eat a pair of panties. It's not pretty.
Catalogs need to start showing clothes on us regular folks. I assure you, had I modeled that sweater dress for the secret catalog there would have been plenty left in stock!
I am not a supermodel.
If I were a supermodel, how would I have time to write such witty observations about meaningless things? I would be much too busy purging and traveling around the world with my boobs.
This is really not a rant about supermodels. I'm sure some of them are as lovely on the outside as they are on the inside. Wait. I said that wrong. Anyway, this rant is directed at companies who try to trick me into thinking I am a supermodel. You know who you are.
The other day I was innocently flipping through a secret catalog that had bras, undies, and other clothes for sale. The secret catalog will remain unnamed because it's secret, and I am an angel for not sharing what secret catalog it is.
The deals were amazing and everything in that catalog looked fantastic! I became absolutely convinced I would be unable to live another day without a sweater dress. I wanted it in camel, but they were sold out. I tried black, but no luck. I settled for winter white which happened to be the one the SUPERMODEL was wearing in the secret catalog.
My winter white sweater dress arrived in the mail. I gleefully tore into the package like Steve Martin in The Jerk. Reminiscent of the scene when he's squealing, "The new phone books are here! The new phone books are here!," I cheered, "My new sweater dress is here! My new sweater dress is here!" I am such a chump.
First of all, the new sweater "dress" was really more like a long top. My voluptuous bottom was covered but my hamstrings were left exposed. This phased me less than the fact that I could see through the "dress." Seriously, is seeing pubic hairs through a dress not one of the more disgusting images you can envision?
I put on my spanks (because Oprah told me every woman needs a pair of spanks, and I will do whatever Oprah tells me to do). Well, spanks did not help the situation. Now instead of flaunting my thighs and nether regions, I looked like I inexplicably wanted to wear a long sweater over a strange pair of beige biker shorts. Who would wear that?? Not Oprah, I assure you!
I picked up the secret catalog to see if the SUPERMODEL in the picture was showing off her pubic hairs. I found the page and, I kid you not, she was sitting down with her legs crossed! I'll never know if that SUPERMODEL had pubes or not. (I'm thinking SUPERMODELS only have hair on their heads, but that's just my suspicion.)
That's the sad moment when I realized (for the billionth time, though I always seem to forget until the clothes arrive in the mail) that the secret catalog is full of clothes being worn by SUPERMODELS.
Sure, that string bikini is cute...on a 100 pound SUPERMODEL. Put my well used body into one of those things and it looks like my butt crack is actually trying to chew up and eat a pair of panties. It's not pretty.
Catalogs need to start showing clothes on us regular folks. I assure you, had I modeled that sweater dress for the secret catalog there would have been plenty left in stock!
I am not a supermodel.
So true! love this post
ReplyDelete