I need this outfit. Let me rephrase: I neeeeeed this outfit. I can see me wearing this at She Speaks with Spanx holding it all together and in. Sigh. Or rather, I can see me 15 years ago wearing this to She Speaks holding it all together with something which the evolution of me has now made extinct: muscle tone. Sigh.
O skinny model, you are so cute and young.
Your calves do not look like upside down bowling pins. Sigh.
You have no muffin top, and yet you are so cute someone should nickname you "Muffy" because, dang it, you are so cute. Sigh.
I can see that you are walking along a beautiful not-fake beach somewhere where there just happens to also be kitchen tile for you to stand on in your heels. Your silky smooth hair does not blow into your eyes, the sand not into your teeth, your heels do not sink.
Cruelest of all, your flapless arms are staying put. Sigh.
I think I shall have life-sized poster of you printed on thick poster board and strap you to the front of me so that we can go to She Speaks together. I will put a sticky nametag on you that bears my name. You just keep smiling and stepping. You will hail the cab; I will buy you your dinner, a whole mint or two.
We will take She Speaks by storm, and I will dedicate my next published work to you, my dear friend, Muffy Chadwickmodel.