No accounting for tastes
Since yesterday, two men have tried to pick me up in the street. This hasn't happened in aaaaages and frankly, I'm confused.
Yesterday: long dress, high-necked jersey. None of it tight or indeed particularly shapely. Hair (frizzy) in ponytail. No make-up. And this chap drives past me three times — leaning out window, grinning like a loon. Finally asks for phone number.
Today: running togs. Running togs. Every lump and bump unforgivingly revealed in cotton lycra. Sweaty. Frizzy haired. Another chap tries to get friendly.
Now, the first one, okay; maybe he has a thing for Puritan chic. I don't get it, but okay. The second one? Seriously. There is no explanation.
Request to the men of the world: please, consider checking me out when I'm actually looking cute. Lipstick. An outfit with a shape to it. Clean, shiny hair. Then, I might feel flattered. As it is I'm a little bit creeped out.
PS. Thank you, oh wise and thoughtful Interwebs, for your response to my glum. What an unexpected bunch of linkage. (Gapingvoid? Love that site, read it often, but not sure why it's supposed to make me smile. Thanks, though.) I'm especially fond of the weird knitting stuff, btw, please keep that coming. You are all very lovely.
11 comments:
My theory is that women actually have no idea when they look good or not. I've put a lot of research into that.
Well, okay, but... but... you really have to trust me on this. Not my cutest days. Not by a lot.
The Magnetism of those Magnificent Mammaries can still be perceived no matter what the outfit. And since I'm one of those gentlemen who is immune to their charms, I am stating A Fact here.
Can you help it if you exude sex appeal? No. Lucky Pomerania to have a Scroob in it.
[loosely linked leap of subject]
You can still get a ticket and fly over for my birthday, you know. And wear lipstick and tight tops. I'll even ask for yuor number if you like.
Darling, I WISH I could. I do.
Re mammaries: the bizarre thing was that he was driving up from behind me. Explain it if you can.
(But you're right, of course. I just can't help the effect I have...)
Gapingvoid? Love that site, read it often, but not sure why it's supposed to make me smile.
Schadenfreude.
This is totally raining on my Suddenly Hot parade! I guess I was right after all - it's just that all men have gone freakin' crazy.
Or - you're just hot no matter what. And you look good sweaty. And you have great breasts. We've all seen 'em. And no sweater could hide 'em.
it is SPRINGTIME, silly !
And finally, an explanation that makes sense. I thank you.
Eesh. A good question, Dem. The long answer involves humidity and a new shampoo that's supposed to make my hair grow faster. (Seriously.) The shorter, and most accurate, answer is: that's just my hair.
But I'm fighting it. Just this morning I bought more Product. The war against frizz continues.
I'm a believer that a girl that can look good in sweats can look good in anything. For instance, if you put Kate Beckinsale in running togs, she's still Kate Beckinsale.
And besides, it's like Glo said, "We've all seen 'em. And no sweater could hide 'em."
Why yes - but I'm not Kate Beckinsale.
Is it really *all* about the bosom? Really? How confusingly simple.
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