This morning I damn near had an accident doing the double-take while watching a naked-bottomed woman hustle toward the train platform. I mean, really. Holy shit. No damn pants. I thought, "Wow, someone needs more coffee because she isn't awake enough to get dressed." I, on the other hand, had been awake for almost two hours, and I was pretty damn sure I didn't need caffeine to navigate.
It wasn't until I started to turn onto the connecting street that I realized she wasn't running bare-assed toward Amtrak (and thank god for that because that would've been one helluva commute into Boston), because if she were, she would have a visible ass crack. No damn ass crack, indeed. But she was wearing skin-tight, skin-colored spandex tights disguised as pants.
Now, folks, I'm not a chunky girl, but I'm no skinny-mini, either. I've had three kids, and, truth be known, I could stand to lose some weight. The spare tire that appeared on the morning of my 40th birthday is still gracing my front side. I will, however, openly admit that I cannot be seen wearing tight spandex pants outside of a gym setting, and I will also admit to being smart enough to wear tight pants that are not identical in color to my natural skin tone.
It's just wrong on so many levels.
I turned another corner in my morning commute, putting about half a mile between me and Semi-Naked Train Girl, hoping to beat the traffic to work by going the back-road cut-through instead of straight out to the main road. I instantly had to stop for a police officer whose cruiser blocked the area to create a protective barrier around a two-car crash that had just occurred minutes earlier. Apparently an SUV crashed into the back of a sedan or some such.
Putting the accidental timeline into effect, I mentally calculated that the two cars were probably right in that area about the time Semi-Naked Train Girl would've been walking along the sidewalk that borders the street.
Holy crap! Semi-Naked Train Girl caused a major road accident ... with injuries.There's a time and a place for flesh-colored spandex stretch pants: Any gym, running on a treadmill, taking ballet lessons... Okay, I lied. Here's the truth, or, rather, a truism: There never was, is,nor will there ever be a time or a place for flesh-colored spandex.
Amen to that!
