Fasion faux pas

Loyal Literates,

Yesterday I had the unique pleasure to personally encounter a phenomenon that is sweeping through our nation’s culture like Tiger Woods at a Playboy Convention. I was leisurely sauntering through the ladies intimate section of Dillard’s perusing the lacey lingerie, nylon negligees, and bountiful bras looking for a gift for my dear sister, Honoria. Honoria is a most exquisite young woman who enjoys accessorizing her breathtaking exterior fashion with untamed undergarments in the same way that Higgins’ have done for centuries. But I digress…

During my underwear undertaking, I heard a voice that was asking questions in an impatient manner. Thinking there to be dame in distress, I ducked under a pair of gargantious granny panties, slid past a silk slip, and came face to rump with what looked like a red anorexic whale’s tail emerging from a sea of grey cotton. This filmy fabric was plastered to the lower back of a rather robust lady who was bending over fiddling with something that I couldn’t quite make out. She raised her head and without standing up said in a loud voice, “What do you think of this?” Thinking that this portly woman was much like my dear Honoria, and with my expertise in the realm of female fashion, I felt obligated by my Higgins Honor to provide her with a rapid response.

I said to her, “dear woman from the Hefty side of Heaven. What did that innocent piece of fabric do to you that you felt compelled to wedge it between two massive rump roasts and stretch it to the brink of disintegration? Although some lower caste Neanderthal males may find that act attractive and provocative, a pure-bred male like a Higgins finds that fantastically nasty and atrociously arduous. It is my recommendation, madam, that you release that textile from its sinful straits immediately, and in future endeavors find something a bit more on the tasteful side for gluteal garments.”

This wide woman spun around at my comments, and looked at me with utter shock and surprise. It was then that I noticed that she had not been addressing me with her questions, but rather was speaking to a wizened old lady nestled in a wheel chair hidden in front of her fortress-like frame. I could only assume this to be her grandmother. Upon the woman’s feet were a pair of reindeer slippers and I realized that she had been modeling these booties for her grandmother, and not her booty for me. As I’m certain that she was terribly embarrassed at her mistake and greatly inconveniencing me, I thought best to excuse myself from the situation and retreat back home to my 50-year companion Mr. Fiddich.

Upon reflection of this awkward encounter, I realized that this was not a one time happening. All across our nation, women have embraced this new wardrobe as a way to advertise for the less than desirable men. The poor sloths who are attracted to this violation of undergarment etiquette only further prove that we elitists have superior taste when it comes to the women of this world.

So I ask you, my loyal literates, not to lower yourselves by encouraging the adorning of these unsightly undergarments by our lovely ladies. Maintain your high standards of cultural conduct and don’t assume the role of a Societal Lemming.

When a man loves a woman he can't keep his mind on nothing else – Percy Sledge 1966

When a classy man loves a woman he keeps his mind perfectly balanced with the universe. E.R. Higgins 2009