Listen, I just really want people to stop making me think I can see through their clothes.
EVERYONE is doing it. And some of them are doing it fine. This is maybe more of a hula funeral. But I can’t even tell anymore because, overall, I’m so WEARY of it. Let me miss it, you guys. Give me a chance to see if I wake up one day and yearn for a cascade of black lace over a nude underpinning. Spot me a breath, and then wait for me to take it in sharply in anticipation of the way the light tickles your torso Spanx. Allow my eyes to hunger for the sheen of psuedo-boob under your mourning shroud. And then we’ll talk.
And if that day never comes? Then we can talk about something else, and THAT will be equally refreshing.