The young woman at the post office on Wednesday morning was "hot!" She was a knockout. There is no man in his right mind that wouldn't have done a double take - and a third, even - to take in such comeliness. Along with a smokin' hot body she had an incredibly pretty face. Honestly, I was a little shocked at her appearance - not shocked that someone could look like that - but shocked that she did look like that. A sight not often observed in this part of the world where every single woman wears black in a most remarkably unshapely manner. And man-oh-man did I feel frumpy in my leggings, oversize sweatshirt and sneakers. She was the prefect example of "drop dead gorgeous." Very, very pretty face with the dark eyes, perfectly and heavily outlined in kohl. Puffy, pouty lips wearing dark burgandy - brown lip gloss. Perfect white teeth. Flawless olive skin. Nails manicured and polished. And a body that would attract men like the Pied Piper attracted rats. How could I tell, you wonder? Her abaya was that tight and actually had
I have no idea if she was married or not. I did notice her hands as she clicked a few keys - oh, so delicately - on her computer to check to see if I had a package, but I didn't pay enough attention to see if she had a wedding ring on. I was too busy looking at the "rest" of her to notice. Her hair was completely covered and she wasn't showing any "skin" but for her hands - her face was unveiled though so you could admire her beauty [she really, really was pretty], but it is how she was wearing her abaya - skin tight - that really got my attention. I could be really snarky and say she was rude or something - but she wasn't. She smiled when she told me that my package wasn't there, "No. Not today." And, again when she said "You're welcome." Hate. Her. In the envious way. [She'll have kids someday and that perfect figure will be ruined. Ha! That teeny tiny little waist will be a distant memory, those heaving breasts will need underwire to keep them in place or they'll be like matching saddlebags on her hips. Oh, and those slim hips will balloon out to be twice the width. I recommend you have six or seven children. And do yourself a favor. You're also going to need to develop a "real" voice or your kids are never going to listen to you.]
Yesterday morning as I was driving home I saw two young ladies walking toward the bus that takes shoppers to the malls and downtown and although I didn't get nearly the look at either of them as I did the young woman working at the post office the day before, I was rather caught off guard by their "lack" of modesty - more one, than the other. The two had their obligatory abayas on - but they were open from the ground almost all the way up. Clasped over their chests and at the neck. Both dressed to the nines underneath the yards of flowing in the wind black fabric. Like I said, one, more so than the other. And, the one I took notice of? She had stovepipe jeans on that were so tight they looked like leggings - with ankle height, stiletto heeled black boots. Her scarf was loosely covering her head - showing only her hairline but not the rest of what was underneath it. I wasn't close enough to see the detail of their faces - just what they were wearing - and that their abayas were NOT covering them. According to a columnist who wrote an article last week - that I did a post on - the newest way to stylishly wear an abaya is to let it be open part-way up and have it drape on the ground behind you. These two were perfect examples of that "new style." Oh, and by the way, both of you need to eat a little something, too!
By all means, the three of you - post office Girl, and mall Girls, come by my house. I will teach you what you need to eat to eliminate those thin thighs, small hips, and teeny, tiny little waists. I can have you looking more than curvy and voluptuous in no time.