And while watching the Yankees plod from eatery to eatery, I came to the conclusion there really should be some sort of restriction on the size and style of clothing people are allowed to wear in public. And not only in the U.S. of A., but where ever flab is a factor.
As you may have guessed, I am not referring to clothes that are too loose. I admit I do not really understand the baggy pants thing that so many of today’s youngsters like to wear, but at least they are not visual fashion assaults like clothes that are too tight, too small or, worst of all, both.
If a person is substantially overweight I do not need to see their belly hanging out in plain view where it can frighten small children and middle-aged men.
If your ‘spare tire’ looks more like an overinflated inner tube, please keep it covered. If your buttocks region is so large it is starting to form its own gravitational pull, perhaps short shorts is not the best fashion option to sport in public.
In your own home, put on whatever you want. What do I care if your goldfish need therapy from seeing their owner run around in a Speedo and cut off shirt?
It is when the fashion disaster is forced upon me that I must protest.
First and foremost, if you weigh slightly less than a VW Bug, spandex is never, and I do mean ever, an option. This applies to all genders and all age groups.
Young flab is just as unappealing as old flab. Lady flab and man flab cross the line of ick at equal velocity.
Again, I implore you, think of the children.
This next one is strictly for the ladies. If your breasts are so wrinkled they look like an aerial topographical map of the Grand Canyon do not wear a low-cut top.
Trust me ladies, at that point nobody wants to see them on display.
Men, you are not immune from fashion faux pas. If there is more hair on your back than a German shepherd, put a shirt on and keep it on – always.
If your stomach is big enough 10 people can hide from the sun in its shadow, a shirt must be worn at all times. Period. There is no room for negotiation on this one, much like the spandex.
Well then, what about you Mr. Columnist-man? Are you built like a Greek god with rippling muscles and six-pack abs?
When it comes to muscles is there really that big a difference between ripple and jiggle?
As for my abdominal region I have taken it beyond a mere six pack. That is for wimps. My abs more resemble a keg, which is way more than a lowly six pack.
And I am sure there must be a pot-bellied, balding flabby Greek god out there somewhere - perhaps an underachieving cousin of Zeus known as the God of the Couch Potatoes.
You have to admit, that would be a pretty popular deity.
But I do my best to keep my less-than-stellar body from public display. I mean, people may be eating, or small children might be close by so it is the least I can do to make this a better world.
I am not obese by any stretch, but the let’s just say about the only way I would take my shirt off in public is if it were on fire.
This last one is for men of all shapes and sizes. If you are in a department store, grocery story or even a corner store WEAR YOUR SHIRT.
I do not need to be picking up some milk and eggs and see your man nipples staring at me.
That is why they invented clothing in the first place.
Proper clothing for the body type is all I ask. Is that too much to hope for? Judging by the last time I was in a Wal-Mart, I guess so.