I'll be the first to admit that if Vogue deemed flabby thighs the next big thing (pardon the pun) and men's magazines everywhere started featuring big arses and cellulite on the covers, I would be running down the street whooping with joy. Actually, no, that might add up to some sort of exercise and ruin my fashionable flab. I'd ease further back into the couch, grab a box of Cheezels and whoop with joy.
But let's face it, this isn't going to happen any time soon. And therefore, I think somebody needs to be a nasty tart and dib dob on all those ladies flaunting their thunder thighs who should really know better. (It's ok, I'm talking about celebrities, it's ok to bitch about THEM).
The first major offender has to be Miss B. Spears. Enamoured of PVC pants, mini skirts and lycra, Britters is a serial offender and must be stopped:
Left: G.I Jane would get a nasty case of thrush if she wore this in 'Nam...
Right: But at least her boobs are perkier than in this set of curtains.
Now look, I love Brits to death. I'e been a big girly fan ever since she dressed up like a school girl and made all the boys cry by asking them to hit her one more time. But she has thunder thighs and stumpy legs. Sorry, but it's true. From the waist up, she's a goddess - when she's had her hair and make up done and hasn't stumbled out of a strip club at 4 in the morning after a cocaine and red bull binge (hey, we've all been there). But hips down, it's scary town. She should either go to Russia for experimental invasive leg lengthening surgery, or give up and wear normal clothes. I mean, it's only going to get worse now she's up the duff. Awww, come on Britters, don't cry! You can still get your tits out if you want.
Moving on, to Beyonce:
Left: A poodle wrapped in alfoil, that's all this is.
Right: Beyonce tries out for the part of Kermit in an adults-only off-Broadway production of the Muppets.
Ok, Beyonce is hard to fault. She's hot, she's got a sexy as hell voice and she rocks completely and utterly hard. I love her. In fact, I think I'd even turn for Beyonce. But let's face it - that arse could have its own House of Parliament. She has some big black booty back there, and it needs some fashion advice. Beyonce, baby: we love looking at your curves, but we don't want to see ALL of them THAT intricately. I don't need to be able to count the spare change in your pockets through your pants. Please, put the lycra down, STOP allowing your mum to make your clothes for you, and just stick to the stuff you look good in. Which is practically anything except these two examples.
And finally, filling out the Australian component, Ms Toni Pearen.
Admittedly, Toni isn't quite on the same plane as Brits or Beyonce. In fact, if Britney and Beyonce were the sun, Toni would be a meteorite on the outer horizon of the universe. And a small one at that. I mean, she hosts Australia's Funniest Home Videos for god's sake. That being said, there's NO EXCUSE for the fashion thigh crimes she's been committing all over the place for, it seems, her whole life.
Left: Toni's crack addicted stylist strikes again with a thigh-hugging disco number straight from the arse end of the 70s.
Right: After the demise of E-Street, Toni had to seek work as a mime. Here she shows off her famous "stumpy legs in glass box" act.
WHAT is that godawful thing on the right? Are they her LEGS poking out of the bottom of that sack? Avert your eyes, children, it's too awful to watch! Honestly, who keeps on telling Toni she looks good in micro minis? THE GIRL HAS NO LEGS, LEAVE HER ALONE! I'm sure it's an inside stylists' joke, and they call each other up after the Logies cackling "I told her it made her look heaps taller! I knoooow I can't believe she fell for it either!"
Somebody needs to stop this rampant lack of style before its too late. I vote we start a petition to the Federal Government to allow for grants to stumpy-legged women to travel to Russia for those operations. Either that, or we just ban miniskirts to everyone with big thighs. But then Westfield would go out of business.
Go on, complain. I won't care.