|I'm beginning to see where these things make sense|
It's been a warm, no, really hot, week here in New England. Ugly hot. And when it gets ugly hot, the ugly comes out. I do not understand this horrific phenomenon. But I think it can be summed up in a post on Facebook I sent from the course earlier today:
To the lady in front of me at the Travelers Championship in the tank top and raging case of back acne, cover up! A grateful gallery, and nation for that matter, thanks you!
I'm not kidding about the bacne, it was awful. Why on earth would you have it on display when it's at the peak of its anger? Why, I ask you?! Anyway, this tank topped travesty wasn't the worst of what was on display today. In some cases, I was embarrassed and in other cases, I felt sorry for those people, both male and female, who clearly don't own a mirror or possess a sense of
I get it. It's summer, the sun is shining and there's something wonderful about the feeling of the sun on skin. On more than one occasion, I've wanted to peel off my shirt on a hot, sweaty run but the fact that I still possess a decent (and by decent, I mean unnecessary for a man to have) man-boob rack has stopped that urge. Yes, I have run shirtless a couple of times and I'm sure for those who saw me it was an experience that was as disturbing as it was sad. Common sense has ruled for me more often than not, reminding me to cover up.
I've said it here before, I'm no prude and certainly no censor. And I'm far from an arbiter of style. But I think I know that if your bacne is raging, if your back and arm tattoos went horribly, horribly wrong, if you're muffin top is more like souffle oozing over, it's time to cover up. No, I don't advocate for a nation of burqas. Let's just take a long look in the mirror before going out. That is all.