I am the kind of person who will pull you aside and let you know if you have spinach on your tooth, or a booger, or toilet paper stuck to your shoe. I would hope someone would do the same for me.
So when I’m standing in a line this morning, and I notice the woman two people ahead of me has a hole in her pants, I feel obligated to tell her. This is not just a little hole where a seam is splitting. This is a hole that is about the size of a golf ball and frayed around the edges, and is right in the middle of a cheek. She is either wearing a thong or going commando – either way, I can see her butt. And her butt would do well (very well) to have some Jolen smeared onto it for a while. Her butt would also do well to get on a Stairmaster.
The hem of her shirt is barely covering the top of it. Without losing my place in line, I try to scooch up next to her to discretely tell her about the hole. “Excuse me, but you have a really big hole on the back of your jeans.” She looked completely nonplussed: “Oh yes, thank you, I know.”
Oh yes, thank you, I know? I know?
Really?
So in summary, she got up this morning and put on a pair of skin-tight, faded, frayed jeans with a big hole in the butt, knowing that the world can see her fat, hairy ass. And doesn’t care.
And this is somebody’s mother. Not only that, she is a Team Mother, as the line we are in is to turn in our AYSO volunteer forms. The team who has her for a Team Mom will probably be called something like The Soccer Slobs or Terrible Trash, and will probably get Twinkies and Pepsi at half-time instead of orange slices and Gatorade.
That’s just wrong on so many levels.
And also? On my way home from the AYSO thing I passed by a guy with a full beard, all tatted out, wearing a ratty T-shirt, black knee-high socks, combat boots… and a kilt. And was pushing a baby in a stroller.
But at least his ass was covered.
Ewww. I wish people had to look at themselves like we have to see them before they leave their houses. Like the hole, I also hate seeing cellulite through the skin tight spandex pants. Or the flabby belly through the skintight cami. Please, people, cover it up!
Oh, and by the way, I’d tell you if you had a booger in your nose. That’s the kind of friend I am. 🙂