The Art of Maids and Form
Maidenform visited campus today, measuring the bust lines of saggy girls and giving them the equipment to battle the effects of gravity on their womanly parts. It was very humorous to see the tremendously long line of girls waiting to receive free undergarments. I opted to sit politely out of the way, noshing on pineapple chunks, making fun of the bra promotion that could also have passed for free Botox day in Beverly Hills.
I even saw one girl, with like 48 F basoomas walk away empty handed. I imagined a Maidenform representative saying “get a reduction and come back later Fatty”… though I don’t think it really panned out that way. When it comes to things (more or less) worn under my clothing, I consider myself an underwear lush. Nothing feeds my soul more than a pretty polka dotted Calvin Klein demi cup, but you couldn't pay me enough to get me to indulge in such a personal ( and practically religious) ritual on a lawn outside the Student Center.
I haven’t mentioned thus far, but feel inclined to do so now, the Naval Ball. The night went off fairly well. My date was a boozer, but a much better dancer after a few drinks so I had no reason to complain. The prime rib was grizzly so I didn’t eat much of it, but was probably better off cause then I had more room for vodka tonics. And of course my dress looked much better on me than it did on Joaquin Phoenix’s Mom at the Oscars.
If I take one thing away from the night, let it be that words cannot express how grateful I am not to be like those drunk Fordham girls in cheap dresses gathering around mirrors to reapply glittery red lipstick.
Thank God for class and sass (and handsome Navy boys).
I even saw one girl, with like 48 F basoomas walk away empty handed. I imagined a Maidenform representative saying “get a reduction and come back later Fatty”… though I don’t think it really panned out that way. When it comes to things (more or less) worn under my clothing, I consider myself an underwear lush. Nothing feeds my soul more than a pretty polka dotted Calvin Klein demi cup, but you couldn't pay me enough to get me to indulge in such a personal ( and practically religious) ritual on a lawn outside the Student Center.
I haven’t mentioned thus far, but feel inclined to do so now, the Naval Ball. The night went off fairly well. My date was a boozer, but a much better dancer after a few drinks so I had no reason to complain. The prime rib was grizzly so I didn’t eat much of it, but was probably better off cause then I had more room for vodka tonics. And of course my dress looked much better on me than it did on Joaquin Phoenix’s Mom at the Oscars.
If I take one thing away from the night, let it be that words cannot express how grateful I am not to be like those drunk Fordham girls in cheap dresses gathering around mirrors to reapply glittery red lipstick.
Thank God for class and sass (and handsome Navy boys).
