And what rekindled my fervent hatred of tights-as-bottoms? I had to take a trip to my alma mater on Wednesday, to yell at the Office of Student Affairs for not sending in a needed document to the New York Bar (a separate battle altogether), and while on campus, I noticed the abundance of unsatisfactorily clad bottoms dashing about. Skinny girls, normal girls, chubby girls- was no one safe from the horror? Because horror it is, no matter how tiny the girl in question may be. It's unsettling to see women running about looking like underdeveloped Peter Pan styled wannabes. I do not need to know what your ass looks like, and that's final. I don't care how devoid of cellulite it might be; I don't want to know. Also, the look reminds me of some cliched notion of Shakespeare productions: I always want to insert cod pieces, and that is unsettling as well.
My disgust finally came to a head as I was waiting for the 39 bus to have lunch in Jamaica Plain with a friend. A girl walked by, dressed in nothing but black tights, a plaid jacket, and cigarette smoke. My mind, weakened by months of unemployment, finally broke under the weight of this optic assualt. I grimaced. Openly. And then shook my head disapprovingly. I might have even clucked my tongue. I was rewarded with a "What's your fuckin' problem, bitch?" which I ignored. After all, I am 30 and too old to argue with undergrads.
But still, I wish I hadn't lost those printout cards that read "Leggings are not pants." Maybe I'll print out some new ones; they would be powerful ammunition in this war of attrition.
Found the cards: http://mmemes.com/2009/06/01/pants-less-ladies-save-the-world-and-how-you-can-save-the-pants/
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