Cold Shoulders

There are many things that I don’t, and will probably never, understand about the “yoof of today”. Most things I don’t really care to know. For instance, the specific yet rather oblique criteria one must meet to be considered ‘emo’. Or why great teenage oafs are riding around on those little clown bikes lately. What’s with that? Don’t they realise they look ridiculous? Anyway, one thing that I have wondered about in my vast amounts of spare time, is why my idea of being sufficiently clothed seems to differ so greatly from the idea of most young girls, particularly when going out for a night on the town.

I was driving through town on my way to pick up K from work the other night. It was bloody cold. The heater in the car was cranked, I had my puffy snowman jacket on, and my teeth were still chattering. So imagine my horror when I turned my head and saw a gaggle of girls on their way to Sporty’s, or Lonnie’s, or Gropey’s, or whatever meat-headed oonce-fest they were heading to, wearing nothing but a few strategically placed hankies. Seriously. One girl was wearing a see-through strapless dress, barely covering her boobs, and finishing up just under her butt cheeks. Another had on what I will tentatively term a ‘mini skirt’ (I’ve seen belts that are wider), a crop top and stilettos. All the girls had more skin showing than was covered. All the girls were shivering. All were struggling to walk in shoes that resembled Paddle Pop sticks with toothpicks glued on for heels.

I mean, I’ve never pretended to be a girly-girl. I’ve never really fit in with groups like that. But most groups that I don’t fit into, I can at least understand somewhat, if not appreciate. I don’t understand what they are hoping to achieve by dressing like that. No doubt they’re trying to attract attention from the opposite sex. But surely it’s possible to look nice and keep warm? And apart from being cold, they weren’t exactly leaving much to the imagination. I mean, I’m not a guy, so I don’t think like one, but surely part of the fun is wondering what someone is like underneath their clothes, rather than have all those interesting bits on display for the world to ogle (or wince) at. Do guys really like girls who dress like that? Are they rewarded for their discomfort? I guess they must be, otherwise they wouldn’t bother. Someone, please enlighten me.

Fuxake. IT'S WINTER, PEOPLE!