I can’t. I’m sorry. I know we love her hair, and her Tami-ness, but she looks like a sofa.
A very ELEGANT sofa, sure — an ornate fainting couch, mayhap, onto which countless royal behinds have swooned upon learning of juicy family trysts with commoners and/or Vegas testicular shenanigans — but nonetheless something to put your bum ON, not in. And, I’m sorry. I tried “on which to put your bum, not in which to put it,” but it was too clunky, so I used the damn preposition to end the sentence with. Zing. This dress has beaten into submission my inner grammarian, which is now in need of its own fainting couch. Maybe Connie can bring this over when she’s finished.