An Open Letter To The Scarily Large Woman In Front Of Me At The Grocery Store Checkout:
Before I get down to the point of this letter, I feel the need to preface it a bit by saying that I do not have much of a fashion sense, if any at all. I know that it is frowned upon to wear socks with sandals, that horizontal stripes don't mix with vertical stripes, and something about wearing white only after Labor Day. Or is it not wearing white after Labor Day? It doesn't matter. The long and short of it is that when it comes to clothing, I wear more of what is comfortable as opposed to what is in style (not that I'd know what truly is considered to be "in style" anyways).
With that said, I don't normally make comments about what people choose to wear. I don't judge a book by it's cover (okay, so I did that once, but it was merited), so why should I, of all people, tear someone apart based upon their attire? As a man who once wore a brown shirt over brown shorts and thereby resembled a giant walking turd, I know there is more to someone than the clothes they wear. And even then, so long as you are comfortable, who cares?
When it is 90 degrees outside with 85% humidity and you are sweating like you just hand-split a cord of firewood while standing in line in front of me at the grocery store, I have every right to judge your stupidity and say that your choice of short shorts and a ribbed white cotton t-shirt was ill-advised.
Let us discuss a few things, starting with the shorts, shall we?
As a person of... larger dimensions, you should know the benefit of dressing to fit your body type. Regardless of how comfortable those short shorts may have been (and forgive me if I am being rude here), it looked like your ass had swallowed up most of your shorts as you meandered through the store. When it comes time to change out of those later, you're probably going to need some backup, so have a few friends come by to help. Just remember to stretch adequately first.
Moving on to your shirt. Any woman should know that a thin white t-shirt is not really appropriate to wear in public (without anything underneath it). Due to the humidity and your aforementioned heavy sweating, your shirt was thinner and more transparent than any of the lies you hear tossed around on that lame TV show, Divorce Court. All transparentness aside, though, my more pressing concern was that your bazoongas looked like they were fighting for their freedom from under that shirt harder than detainees at a POW camp. Strap those yahbos down before someone gets hurt.
Those really are the only complaints that I have. You weren't wearing anything else that caught my attention, so I am out of things to chastise you for. I guess that is all that I have to say.... no, wait. Come to think of it, I do have something else. Something to thank you for, actually. While staring at the back of your legs like one does an accident on the highway, the pattern of the veins behind your knee reminded me of a road map, which brought to mind a shortcut that saved me three minutes on my drive home. Score!
The Man In Line Behind You