Since Michael and I are not good people, we spent a good portion of our time at JazzFest passing judgment on the various characters one encounters at such events. Seriously, all walks of humanity show up.
Oh stop. You know you do it too. At least I'm admitting it.
One thing we homed in on was the inexplicable compulsion women had for buying, and wearing, clothing with horizontal stripes.
Women with beautiful bodies were flattened out and contorted with stripes and...well...those with less than perfect bodies were doing themselves no favors with the horizontal stripe.
There was nary a person we found who sported the stripe well.
This is not a new observation by any stretch of the imagination. Every woman (I thought) was bred to know that horizontal stripes=big, fat blob. I even mentioned my disdain for horizontal stripes in my previous post on the joys of bathing suit shopping whilst pregnant.
Speaking of bathing suit shopping, I finally broke down and went back to Pea in the Pod earlier this week to get a dreaded bathing suit as I will be spending this weekend floating belly up in a pool.
Do you know what kind of bathing suit I got?
You're never going to guess.
(No that is not me. I'm roughly 403 times her size.)
Doth my eye deceive me? Are those *gasp* horizontal stripes? On a bathing suit, no less?
Yes, *hangs head in shame* I admit it. I went and bought the very bathing suit I was railing against.
When I got home and showed Michael the suit he just gave me the look. The look we were giving the women all weekend long. The "I'm sorry no one told you that horizontal stripes are a cruel joke played by fabric designers around the world" look.
It really was the lesser of all evils amongst the suits I tried on. I think because the string bikini bottoms didn't push on my ever-expanding hips showcasing every last dimple of cellulite to the world. Or maybe I was too distracted by the stripes to care.
Either way. I'm officially that girl. The one who owns horizontal striped clothing.
Don't worry. I bought a giant white cover up--because white is known for its slimming abilities (oh wait, crap)--to go over the striped suit when I'm faced with actual sunlight where the sneaky horizontal stripes, who previously were looking cute and harmless in the dressing room mirror, unleash their gruesome disfiguring abilities for all to pass judgment on me.