Small steps, gossips. Small steps. Not bad, all things considered – especially in light of past transgressions.
But, as you all know, an inch or two can make all the difference. In her case, there is something very, very off about the length of this tunic. The back is nice enough. The front is not atrocious – could be better, could fit her better, but still…not entirely offensive.
The problem is where it sits on her legs. And the only people who would approve of this length are our mothers. I know for a fact mine would be all over it. Because it’s neither here nor there. Not so long as to be called “frumpy” – at least in old school eyes – and not too short to be deemed trampy – in relation, of course, to the standards of yesteryear.
For us, however, it’s a total frickin’ disaster - the perfect example of a girl who painfully tries much much too hard but who, for some strange reason, doesn’t have any good friends. Because if she did, she wouldn’t be looking like sh*t more often than not.
So Amanda, if you’re out there, just want you to know: I like you. And I would definitely be your friend. If only you’ll have me.