Today I was sitting in a mall. Perhaps I was even enjoying the smooth, exotic, yet familiar taste of a Chic-Fil-A sandwhich and waffle fries when I was taken aback by one of my full figured black sisters. Endulge me if you will. I glance up slowly from dipping my waffle frie into the tangy sweetness of the polynesian sauce when my eyes were flooded with visions of spaghetti straps and backfat, lo rise jeans and a white lace thong. There was a gag. A drop of fry. A "Shit". Then an even more audible "REALLY!?!" Thusly, I write this letter to my fellow Lane Bryant shoppers and enjoyers of buffets and victims of genetics:
I believe in taking risks and being daring in clothing choices-my onesie for example, but I need you to realize that we can't wear everything. We should dress to accentuate our positives: beautiful cleavage, nice legs, smoldering eyes, structured face, nice hands, pretty wrists; those things beautiful on us beautiful. Those things that we keep under wraps: our backfat that's the only thing i really care about.