Dressing for the Holidays

Today I was watching a segment on a morning show about how a woman can hide her flaws fashionably. Whatever happened to putting a bag over your head? Okay, not helpful. For years the Peterman catalog has offered any number of flowing caftans bartered from Mongolian sheepherders for just this purpose. "On the Calimari Plains of Babaganoosk near remote Oodlesk, we discovered these artful tent-like weavings which the members of the Moogli tribe use to hide their fat cows."

Personally I'm partial to a dramatic, large scarf. Something the size of Maine works best for me.

As the models on the show came out one at a time, I realized the fashion editor wasn't talking about hiding real flaws like a missing limb or burn scars, she was referring to IMAGINARY flaws -- the ones that only twenty something females can see after staring in the mirror at themselves for two hours.

The first outfit was supposed to diminish the view of unappealing upper arms. This was accomplished with a baby doll sleeve that hit the flawed appendage at its thinnest point. It must have worked because the model's arms looked like sticks. Anything resembling a hideous, fleshy body part was not discernible to my eye.

This same model apparently had thunderous thighs to go with her grotesque arms. So the dress had a hemline that hit her leg above the knee, but below that blobby fat part of her thigh, which must have been disgusting before they dressed her properly. Not a bulge in sight. She also wore black tights to create the illusion of having slim, athletic legs. Tights can do that? Who knew? They also put her in knee-high boots with four inch heels, because supposedly the right boots can hide everything from bunions to fat ankles. Something about how your eye is drawn away from your flaws to the buffet table.

The next model came out with her shoulders exposed. Shoulders are the new cleavage. If you don't have any cleavage, just show a hunk of shoulder and nobody will know the difference. Oh great, after all these years I finally have a butt crack's worth of cleavage and now they want shoulders. Sure -- right after my dermatologist finishes removing all the pre cancerous spots caused by the excesses of youthful sunbathing.

I'm waiting for an outfit that lifts up your holiday-food-filled stomach so it fits into your bra. And disguises your fat ass as a game table with chairs.

Meanwhile, they should put up a disclaimer before doing these fashion makeover things. WARNING: This segment is not suitable for women who prefer elastic waistbands and shop at Chico's.

Not me, of course. Eddie Bauer is more my style.