Sexy

For the majority of my time, I'm either cooped up in the house with the rugrats until it's cool enough to venture outside, or at work (for those days few and far between in which my babysitter (aka Mom) is around). So, I suppose one could classify me as "sheltered." Funny, how completely oblivious I was of the fact until Lou and I sneaked away to SLC for our recent date night. We were seated by a window at the Melting Pot and were thus rewarded by an opportunity to people watch.

There were the usual: the typical businessman, briskly walking to catch the pedestrian light at the corner, with his shirt half untucked and tie hanging loosely down the front, the occasional street beggar clutching at his cardboard sign, a couple here and there, holding hands probably on a date night just like us. Then there were those that Lou and I (well, maybe just me) zoned in to.

Maybe it's just that I'm OLD, or CONSERVATIVE, but I like to believe that women should try to look more classy than sexy since dressing for sexiness almost always leads to trashiness. And as Lou often reiterates, classy is synonymous to sexy. Apparently, from what we saw that night, not many people are aware of that.

One female in particular came sauntering down the sidewalk, swinging her hips back and forth so aggressively, you would think she was auditioning for a trip down the catwalk. Her date had to hold her hand at arm's length to make room! Too bad, too, she was dressed decently.

Another girl totally brought the term "streetwalker" to mind. She was with a considerably older companion, and maybe she was trying to look older. Unfortunately, all she needed was some fishnets to complete the impression that she knew a thing or two about working a corner.

I can go on and on about all the hookers I saw that night. Whatever happened to playing up your assets in a tasteful way? I'm not a prude, but there's nothing attractive about a g-string sticking out of your lowriders. Cleavage is okay, and something Lou prefers, but revealing just a bit of it is the key. Pamela Anderson balloon-type chi-chis are never okay. Legs, especially long ones, are nice to show off. But when wearing short skirts or dresses, please, oh, please cover your treats!

Remember Brittney Spears?!?!?! I read about that paparazzo incident, but apparently, I was just too darn curious. In this case, curiousity killed the cat. I about died a million times over after clicking on that link and being cursed with that screen-sized ghastly image. I have yet to recover.

Anyway, thank goodness I live in a quiet little town in which I am not continuously exposed to such atrocities. I think I should hide out in the 'burbs for a bit before venturing out into the real world again.