June 17, 2018 | ° F

Leave something to imagination

I have been working on becoming a more productive human being lately, and I started by abandoning the things that were feeding into my toxicity most heavily. Within the recent past, I gave up eating meat, being generally lazy — Tumblr and Mario Kart withstanding thanks to their supreme offerings of entertainment — my ex-boyfriend and lastly, critiquing other people's flaws, but only the ones they cannot fix, no matter how hilariously unfortunate they are. On that note, girls, you need to put on some pants.

My trip odometer clocked an impressive 242 miles this weekend, which equates to some four hours of observing the outside world but not exactly being a part of it. So earlier this week, I decided to celebrate spring by skipping class (sorry, Mom) to sit outside and read a book. I have not had time for much else besides class and work, given the amount of Mario Kart hours I clock. Clearly, my priorities are in order. In any case, a nearby cherry blossom tree spent its afternoon dusting my legs with its petals, welcomingly garnering my attention for most of the day. But every so often, my distracted eyes would divert from the pages of my book, past spring's treasures and toward the most distasteful of sights — lower butt cleavage. You know, when girls think they will still fit into last summer's wardrobe despite their poster child-like freshman 15 weight gain, but fail miserably.

At first I thought my tired eyes were joking with me — any dedicated college student knows two hours of sleep can induce the most vivid hallucinations -— but then there was another. And then another. And then a whole pack of them, clad in their sorority's sweatshirts, wearing little more than bathing suit bottoms in clear public view. I could not help but stare, but I suppose the scrutiny is what they were going for. Why else would a pack of broads strut around in next to nothing, midday, with classes in session? More importantly, where does one possibly find shorts that adequately display such a level of upper thigh and buttock crease? Baby Gap? OshKosh B'Gosh? Talbots? Got me.

I may sound cruel, but in a world where mirrors exist, I should not be subjected to such visually offensive disgrace via a fellow female's outfit, or lack thereof, on such a beautiful Monday. I mean, I get it, the weather surges past 70 degrees and suddenly, the idea of throwing on pants or a shirt with sleeves or a neckline above the belly button is too daunting a task, but seriously, it is vomit-inducing. In fact, it kind of ruined my Monday, which had been going swimmingly until that point. Besides, there are plenty of better ways to attract the attention of your young male professor on test day.

So back to you putting on pants. No, not the ones with attractive branding like "Pink" or "Juicy" so shamelessly stitched across your backside, and no, not the ones that could double as lace "booty shorts." I am talking real, live pants. You are making yourself look nearly 15 pounds heavier than you are when your skin is billowing out of the bottom (and top) of your shorts. This coming from a girl with prominent hips and minimal shame, you have had to pick up along the way that that your cellulite is not your best accessory. And the Uggs you have so carefully chosen to accompany your backside-bearing "shorts" do not help your case.

I think I have made it abundantly clear in recent weeks that I am far from appropriate, and no, I certainly do not dress like the Amish. I am sure I have made some poor fashion choices in my life — there is pictorial proof of a sixteen-year-old me denim jacket and bell bottom clad hiding somewhere in my mess of a room — but come on. I am not asking for full-ankle coverage or even a 10-inch inseam on your Ed Hardy shorts, but just a little modesty would be lovely. I cannot help but think I sound like my mother, but seriously, whatever is going on near your upper thigh is just displeasing to the eye. You are going to class, for goodness sake. Even if you are not going to class, you are walking outside of your house in more than I would dare walk out of my bedroom in. If you are going to start bearing half your butt during the first few days of spring, I can only imagine what is to come by July. Thank god you will be back fist pumping and GTL-ing at your shore house, or excuse me, "shaw howse" by then. Am I stereotyping again? Oops.

If you plan to transition into adulthood at some point in your collegiate career, I imagine it should involve putting on some pants. And if you do not plan on evolving into an adult any time soon, either command your corner with conviction, or put on some damn pants.

Also, I know that this does not exactly belong, but I have written this entire rant while on hold for customer service — I'm sick of pressing one for English.


Lauren Caruso is a Cook College senior majoring in journalism and media studies with a minor in environmental policy, institutions and behaviors.

Lauren Caruso

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