Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I must confess, I always get a little glimmer of anticipation and empowerment as I upload my ass for this post. Who or what shall I defy today-which is really Monday (sometimes Sunday) but will not be revealed until Tuesday?
A forum friend of mine accused me of "driving the Mustang of self delusion" when I admitted to going out sans bra if I were only going through a drive through....well, bras can kiss my ass. I really really hate those weird padded bras that are perfect round domes. They look like the tops you put over food at a fancy buffet.....OH, what do we have under HERE? Why look-it's a little bitty titty. Kiss My Ass.
I walk by displays in the stores and immediately feel inadequate and slightly disturbed by the notion that we are all supposed to have mass produced, conforming breasts. Who gets to decide what shape our boobies should be this season? Kiss My ASS fashionable boobie deciders.
In attempt to be open minded and fair-I bought one once. Wearing it reminded me of wearing knee pads for skating-it had the same foreign feel to it. I felt like Helga the Viking Queen, geared up to withstand the onslaught.....of what? With my tits? That makes no sense. Kiss My Ass.
Fashion in general can Kiss My Ass. I suck at it, always have, and I seem to be devolving rather the evolving as I get older. One of the big reasons I wanted to leave Corporate America behind was that I hated having to dress for work. Accounting is a back office thing-WHY do I have to put myself in a suit and heels (hah, like that happened recently) in order to rent my brain out for the day. And PANTY HOSE-Oh-kiss my ass kiss my ass kiss my ass.
They make no sense. I'm going to wear a skirt and show some leg, but then I'm going to cover it UP, but not really. And, while we all KNOW it's covered up, if there should be a run in it, revealing the cover up we all knew about-well that's just bad form. Oh for fucking crying out loud. I really do think women are still behind in the workplace in part due to all the stupid fashion rules we must adhere to. Some clever man probably thought that up to distract us. Kiss My Ass.
Fashion as a form of social control-and women fall for it and yes, I've fallen for it, in a rumpled sort of way. Even my lack of fashion is still a fashion statement of sorts. Inescapable. I can't NOT play, even if I walk around looking like a hobo's ass most of the time. Kiss MY Ass.