guest report number one: camel toes in vermont

hello there, fellow seekers of justice for the vagina! after reading that gem of a post below, i felt inspired to do a little reporting from a different area of the world…vermont. ah, yes, the area of the united states where cold sets in rather early, fall leaves begin to change from their tired green to brilliant orange and red by september only to be rattled from their branches and strewn about the ground in october so that when november comes, snow can drift down and cover the ground. the world begins to sleep, tucked in by a cold blistery wind. ah, yes, vermont! snow boots are not only acceptable means of shoes for five months but rather a necessity. snow pants, gloves, hats, coats, and scarves are also worn more days than not. and so it goes, for five long months: days so cold your bones ache, nights so long you forget there is day, and clothes so heavy you forget the feeling of freedom.

enter…leggings? dun dun dun!

yes folks, i am here to report that the camel toe is alive and well during the winter. fear of a frost bitten vagina? of an ass that, by the end of the day, closely resembles a frozen slab of freezer burned steak? “ha! fear this!” these girls say, for beauty is pain and leggings will prevail!

take for example, the experience i had yesterday: around 10 am, i decided to take a short walk down to the center of town to check the status of my bank account, more as an excuse to enjoy the beginning of winter than out of actual need. the sun was shining, but the wind was blowing off the lake and whipping up the streets, sending the brightly colored leaves to hide under cars and porches and around carved pumpkins. it was the kind of day i look forward to every year—the kind of day that makes you feel alive. so I set out, sensibly in a pair of jeans, layered shirts, and a heavy fall coat, scarf, and winter boots. my walk downtown was pleasant but uneventful, clearly a monday morning in a college town after a long weekend of halloween festivities/debauchery. after taking my time walking to the bank and window shopping a bit, i turned back to where i came and began the trek home. it was then that my beautiful morning started to crumble, devastatingly slow, around me. When I turned on to my street and began to make my way up to the top of the hill where my apartment is, i noticed ahead of me a girl on her porch ruffling through her purse to make sure she did indeed grab her keys. i didn’t at first pay much attention, still too self-involved in my own happiness to take notice of another person. but this stopped, all of it stopped, all the beauty of the cold fall morning stopped. i noticed this girl was headed off her porch steps, assured she had indeed grabbed her keys. not only was she going to cut in front of me (i walk fast, and i hate that awkward moment when passing someone on the sidewalk…do you say hello? excuse me? nothing at all?) but: SHE WAS WEARING LEGGINGS!!! not just leggings folks, but a whole outfit based on her leggings. she had on high-heeled slouchy boots that are also currently all the rage, a long-ish tank top layered under a thin white t-shirt, and leopard print mini cardigan that expertly matched both the black of her leggings and the tan of her boots. her hair was the (golden? poo? your choice) blonde that can only be achieved by dying dark hair, and her skin the color that resembled lindsay lohan’s: uneven, rotten, glow-stick orange. yes, i did indeed notice all of these things about her, including the gaudy gold jewelry adorning her wrists, ears, and neck. i was forced to notice these things, because the alternate was not acceptable: the dreaded camel toe that i knew would be there. now, to be fair, i was walking behind this girl and not in front of, so i did not see the camel toe in all its glory. but what i did see was almost worse: the rear camel toe. yes, girlfriend had a rear camel toe. in leggings so tight that they simultaneously held the thighs apart and the ass up was the product of her clothing choice: there, dangling for us all to see, was a tiny female scrotum.

i don’t remember much after that. i know i walked in to my apartment, took off my boots, and drank a glass of water. i’m sure i did. but i don’t really remember it. scarred into my mind still is that monster of a lady-part, and it’s not looking promising that i’ll forget it any time soon. so if you were hoping to escape this dreaded fall fashion by moving to a colder part of the states where you might assume people couldn’t wear leggings, i’m here to tell you it’s not possible. consider yourselves warned: here too, the camel toe lives on.