Don’t You Own A Mirror?

I sat next to a woman who, when she got up, had on bright fuchsia undies beneath white, nylon exercise pants.  My panty-line alarm went off to the point of insanity since everyone on the bus starred at her rather ample ass as she got off.  And I mean everybody.  You couldn’t help it, like following the bouncing ball.

Who possibly could find this attractive.

I mentioned it to my pal Camille when we met for drinks at the St. Regis.

“She was prowling for a date obviously,” Camille said while applying more gloss she did not need.

“You do know how much I hate all that grease on your lips.  It looks as if you’ve been eating pork chops.”

“You need more after 5 o’clock, how else will men know they want to kiss you.”

“Even if they dared, they’d side right off your face.”

“I didn’t hear that.  And I’ll bet the girl with the pastel butt would agree with me. You just don’t try to get picked-up anymore Susannah, that’s your problem.”

“First of all, the man who finds a pink ass attractive is not the man I want to meet.  Next he’ll assume my bra lights up, if  I actually wore one.”

“That could be fun.”


“What’s happened to you Susannah.  Your Connecticut is showing again and it’s so boring.”

“Hey, I don’t see you prancing around with a panty-line the width of a tire, so shut-up.”

“It’s just not my style, however I get it.  You need to be bold to get noticed nowadays.  There are too many women to choose from.  They’re becoming like sling-backs in the spring. ”

“Camille, no more wine for you, do you hear me?”

This conversation depressed me.  Between the indelible image of a rear the size of a birthday cake and Camille’s gloss that somehow got all over my wineglass, I wanted to escape.  Camille’s no spring chicken and neither was that woman wiggling off the M13, so there’s something desperate about their efforts even if they could be perceived as noble.

I don’t want a thong that talks.  I don’t want lips that could lubricate Japan either.  You know what I want?  A bath, a book, and a BLT without the B.   How can it be a BLT without bacon you’re wondering?  Well, it originally would have it, but I’m after the grease, not the pork, that sinks lavishly into the bread, a little like Camille’s gloss.

UGH, why did I say that?  Now I’ll have to switch to a PBJ (peanut butter and jelly).


About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
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30 Responses to Don’t You Own A Mirror?

  1. micklively says:

    Is BLT without the B what we used to call a salad sandwich?
    As ever, I absolutely adore your fracas with Camille: still giggling. 😉


  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    At least she had undies on, Susannah. I cringe at the 20-thread count white pants that let everyone know who’s going commando. And the butt seam is usually pulling apart too. I always feel like singing Annie’s song, “The sun’ll come out tomorrow, bet your bottom dollar …”


  3. Elle Knowles says:

    I often wonder what people are thinking when they dress in the mornings? You are right – do they even own a mirror? I’m a people watcher and can sit for hours watching in amazement! 🙂 ~Elle


  4. While there may be some appeal to males at seeing a woman’s undies through her pants, to me, a glaring example of that is not good in public. Camille talks about getting it out there and letting men know they want you. You can do so much more with a nice look and, perhaps, a little leading by letting them know you would like to know them better. I am talking verbal here now, not a visual spectacle. I suppose the easiest way for guys is to ask if you would want your girlfriend wearing that type of out fit in public w/o you by her side? If not, then picking up a woman like that will end up causing problems down the road, I imagine.
    Just a thought.


  5. MJ says:

    Very, very funny, Susannah—an abundance of bon mots! And thanks to “Skinny”, I now know the meaning of “going commando”, as proposed in the toilet paper ad. Now I’m reeling from the implications. At least when Brooke Shields alluringly said that “nothing” came between her and her Calvins, the only negative that occurred to me was the hair down there getting stuck in the zipper.


  6. AZMike says:

    I saw a 40something gal with just a little middle age spread going on. She had the white 20 count english cotton with the Folger’s decaf green container g-string prominent. As she was trolling, I did look more than once but it was the refrigerated section of the grocery store . Maybe she was looking for some thick sliced Bacon…


  7. Oh you and Camille, the stories! I’m not saying a man wouldn’t look (how could he not), but, and that sounds like a big butt, would this woman, that you both saw, be the kind of woman any man worth anything would want to be seen in public with? I seriously doubt it.


  8. For the love of GOD! White pants before Memorial day? Fuchsia undies for the world to see? Did ANYONE inform her that she resides in the fashion capital of the U.S. of A? I was waiting for you to say she was wearing a damn cat sweatshirt before I contacted Fashion S.W.A.T. (Special Wardrobe and Taste) team.
    Being noticed is one thing, being noticed for being hideous is another. You are 100% right.


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