Your cover-up

I saw one of the most noteworthy displays of cover-up-my-bald-spot this week.

It occurred on a morning much like any other, as I was waiting in line for my grande non-fat caramel macchiato. I haven't figured out why, but Starbucks always has the most interesting clientele. Waiting in line two customers ahead of me was a middle-aged guy rocking a mohawk. I thought to myself, cool, that dude's rocking a mohawk. Go on wit yo' bad self. (Yes, I said it just like that.) It wasn't until he turned his head that I saw what he was hiding. Nestled there, right smack in the middle of his 'do was a patch of baldness, just as smooth and hairless as a baby's bottom. The two ridges of spiked up hair vertically lining this spot reached towards each other with a desperation I've rarely seen. It's as though these ridges were trying to reach out and hold each other before they too fall out. This got me thinking...

Maybe instead of working out so hard to fit back into my skinny jeans, risking not only muffin top but funny commentary from the Starbucks customer waiting two people behind me, I should change the world's perception of what constitutes an alluring body. Here's my theory: when you take an exam of any sort, the goal is to score as high as you can--an A--right? Now let's apply this to a woman's body. 'A' cups are better than 'C' or 'D' cups. Ladies, you don't want to fail in the ta-ta department...A all the way, baby. Now, sticking with the test taking analogy, when graded numerically, the higher the number, the better, right? Apply this to hips, thighs, butt. The curvier, the better...we're shooting for high numbers here, folks.

You're welcome.

I'm neurotic today because...
...it's easier to change my mind than my pants size.