Being the huge fan of browsing mail-order catalogs and trying to devise a way to have the ripped athletic physique like most of the models contained within is a special form of torture I subject myself to. So could there be a better time to do this than at the start of the new year, during “Resolution week” (which it’s already been established I don’t participate in.) Pages upon pages of sun-tanned, impossibly natural beauties with perfect smiles and glow-bright teeth? Looking disgustingly happy surfing some Hawaiian wave or photographed mid-acrobatic climb up the side of Mt. Kilimanjaro. Jealous much?
So I’m still loving the clothes. Dog earring page after page and so very subtly letting Ice know that I just might love a gift certificate for any upcoming occasions that might warrant it. And by the way, spread the word!
“When did they introduce that style?” I think.
“Oooooh, that would be so cute to wear to the next picnic or trip to the Zoo with Little Bee.”
So caught up in the piles and piles of cute things that I envision adorning my closet, I completely miss the captions on the multitudes of Super Women featured in this edition.
Looking closer I see descriptions of jobs, accomplishments and favorite pastimes of these ladies. A painting psychotherapist and a woman who faces down a mountain lion and professes surviving natural childbirth? Or how about a surfing environmental researcher who has a law degree and scales mountains? Let me tell ya, I can sooo relate.
All of the sudden I question if I am worthy of sporting these clothes. A picnic and the Zoo? Shouldn’t I organize an effort to raise funds for a new playground first or champion saving a species for which I visit at the zoo before I can wear these clothes? Geesh!
I share this with Ice and you know what he says? “How many kids do they have?”
I don’t seem to recall more than one caption mentioning anything about that…