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the faint of heart or the easily offended, please turn back now.  really.

Last chance.  turn away.  don’t look.  I’m going to be catty.

I love summer.  Like all Oregonians, I am seriously deficient in vitamin D.  So, when summer decides to finally show up, we are all guilty of showing too much skin.  I include myself in this.  I love tank tops, undershirts, wife-beater, whatever you want to call it.  I have them in every color.

I embrace I live in felony flats, front row center.  I laugh at the people who tailgate me to rush to get to wals-mart.  I laugh at myself when I rush to the Dollar Tree in my grubby yard shorts, flip flops and just-too-short tank top with my bra straps showing.  I look like trash.  But I could barely contain my snide judgement when the woman in front of me in line at Dollar Tree was wearing almost what I was wearing and instead of being slightly horrified at herself, she was pretty proud.

Let me paint you a picture… This woman was voluptuous, generously endowed everywhere.  She had on a frilly little tank top with cute little criss-cross straps in the back.  I can’t even say under her tank top, but across her back was the widest bra strap not even remotely under her top.  In my head I was giggling like a 12 year old boy.  The phrase “over the shoulder boulder holder” popped into my head.  Straps wide enough to catapult a cat.  She had a tattoo that said something about broken bones on her bicep.  The image was a little fuzzy, like the artist had been drunk when he did it.  And then there were the boulders, practically spilling out of her top.  That tiny, frilly frock barely contained the full essence of her womanhood.  I think the poor cashier was as mortified as I was entertained.  It was almost icing on the cake when she got into boyfriend’s hooptie and they rolled off.  I love my neighborhood.

The city abounds with contrasts, an almost overwhelming feast for the senses.  I met a friend for a beer after work.  We went to a swank bar in the Pearl District and the contrast of the urban professionals and hipsters to the folks in my ‘hood was almost more than I could bear.  As I walked from the Pearl back to my office, I passed by bums and street kids sleeping in the park, runners, bikers, and tourists, all out enjoying the beautiful evening, and all showing more skin than I ever needed to see.

I almost want to go back to the attire of another era, when skin wasn’t always on display.  I’ve been working on a more eloquent post about what I wear, how I dress and the thought that I put into it.  I’ll get to it soon enough.  Until then, know that when they offer up a camera that can be embedded into my eyes, I’ll be first in line.

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