A woman in denial.

In denial of the fact that the man she married has no musical talent. That he's a cheater and a dumper and will probably dump her too once he bilks her for all she's worth. In denial of the fact that aforementioned cheater, dumper, and general layabout has enough of her money to buy himself a record and hawk it on the streets because NO RECORD COMPANY WANTS HIM.

But what is most disturbing to me is her denial of her size. She looks cute. Even now she looks cute. But the pants? Have GOT TO GO. Just GET A BIGGER SIZE, it's not hard, CIVILIANS DO IT EVERY DAY.


Even commoners know that the quickest way to lose five or even ten pounds is to buy the next size up.

And Britney? A woman who can afford to buy her scumbag husband a 200k car can also afford to GET HER DUMB PANTS HEMMED UP. GOSH.

Nothing says fashion faux pas like denial of reality.

Right. Photos courtesy of this lot.

When I was little, my mother, ever the penny pincher, insisted that underwear need not cost a lot of money. Your panties should come six to a pack and bras were pretty cheap if you shopped in the right places. It was as if she recognized that you needed to wear a bra, but it didn't necessarily need to do anything other than annoy you. So I subscribed to that belief as well, and didn't challenge the notion until very recently. It wasn't even my own exploration, but rather my mother's, who has now discovered that your underwear can not only look nice but also make you feel good if you buy the expensive stuff. I scoffed; after all, you don't just change your mind with one dissenting opinion. I figured, why spend the money? Besides, if no one is going to see your underwear, there's no sense in it looking pretty.

Well, I'm here to tell you, that philosophy is all wrong. I recently discovered the joy of Victoria's Secret, and I feel silly that it took me so long to do so. I blame my mother. In any regard, I decided to do some empirical testing and purchased two new bras and some new panties. As far as the panties are concerned, they didn't really do much for me. Unless you're looking for a shaping quality or some special kind of underwear, the stuff they have at Target is just as good. The only thing I will say is the fit was quite nice. Otherwise, I couldn't tell if I was wearing expensive undies or not. The bra, on the other hand, is a completely different story.

Let me tell you, the special bra was fantastic. I wore it all day at work, and even as I walked out the door at 5:00, I was comfortable and not having to constantly readjust. That took a little getting used to, but fortunately for my company, the productivity I lost in fixing myself has now been completely eliminated. Not only did the bra feel much better, but - and I have to say this - my boobs looked great. Perky. In the right places always. You really couldn't ask for too much more from a bra. Just to make sure all my testing was complete, I went back to one of my old bras for a day and by lunch I was miserable as usual. You can bet that I'll be going back to Victoria's Secret very soon, because I can't even look at my old bras anymore. What's even better is that everything I purchased was on sale, so if you're into good undergarments (and let me tell you, you should be), head directly to the back of the store and don't even bother with the front. You'll get some great undergarments and a price close to what you would pay at Target. If you can get these things on the cheap, why not? It will revolutionize your entire outlook on life.

And neither, apparently, do her clothes.



I make no pretense of my general loathing for J Lo. Apart from her well-fed example of female physique I really couldn't care less.

Imagine my delight, then, upon seeing her in this getup! It's rare that Her Honorable Bootyness puts a sartorial foot wrong. This is a feast!

What is this thing? A clown costume stolen from the abandoned act "Plus Size Clowns: Bold, Big, and Scarier than Ever"? A swath of fabric left over from a circus tent? The Big Top itself?


Photos courtesy of The Rag.