Tag Archives: Disney

#35: The Royals

More specifically? Royal weddings.

The concept that a rational, American woman would wake up at 5am, make some tea, eat some fancy sandwiches, wear a hat and weep over a wedding that isn’t even a fundamental part of our current American society– well, that befuddled my poor husband. It irritated him so deeply that he demanded I stop speaking of it in his presence. Seriously. It kind of sounded like a threat. I decided not to test him. So, I called my sisters instead. On my cell phone. At least 50 feet from my house. Like I said, I didn’t want to test him.

I’ll admit it. I cried. And all of you other American, hat-wearing, tea-drinking, waking-up- early bitches cried too. Did you see Prince William tell her she looked “beautiful?” Did you? DID YOU? Well, I did. And then I wept for about 15 minutes. Uncontrollably. Seriously. I looked like Claire Danes in My So-Called Life. And I wasn’t ashamed. And OMFG, did you see Kate’s dress? Alexander McQueen nearly killed me with its blinding beauty. And Pippa’s dress? Sweet Jesus, I died and went to heaven. Yes. I know her sister’s name. In fact, I follow her for fashion secrets on People.com now.  And you do too. Admit it.

She looks like a fucking demon. And she's not even the ugly one.

Just a note: Fergie’s kids did not win the looks lottery. Just sayin’.

Why do women care about this nonsense? What broke inside of us when we were 5, just after we saw The Little Mermaid or Beauty and The Beast and we all individually decided– I am soooo into princesses? I know more about British Royals than I should as a red-blooded American girl. I have to trace it back to Disney on some level. I mean, it has nothing to do with Historical references, so I have to assume that the evil bastards at Disney have ruined me and are now hell-bent on ruining my daughters. Note to self: Research female mental difficulties and their connections to the Disney Empire (Insert the Imperial March here).

I have to admit (I mean, I have nothing to lose at this point, do I?), I fucking love everything royal. I love their clothes. I love their accents. I love that they all do charity work because they don’t have real jobs and they’re bored.  I think they bring some class to the entertainment world– a type of  class that we lack with celebrities like Paris Hilton, Kanye West and Sarah Palin (If you think that she’s anything more than a C-List celeb, blow me).

As the ceremony neared, I couldn’t wait to see what Kate was going to wear, what the overrated Anglican ceremony would be like or what the Queen would say/do/or wear. Oh, and this just in England:  You are clearly Catholic. Don’t try and pretend like you’re anything else, you pompous bastards. Only the Pope could put on a show bigger than that and he’s too busy advocating abstinence in Africa and ignoring the AIDS epidemic altogether (“If I ignore it, then I don’t have to explain why God hates Africans”).

Look, if you didn’t already figure this out, women love a good wedding. Throw in a Princess, a horse drawn carriage, high fashion and a true love story straight out of a classy upper-class British romance novel– you’ve got yourself a winner. All women can just imagine the witty dialogue than ensued during that courtship. To us, Kate and William seem like a normal couple. They seem like two people all of us could hang out with. Hell, they invited their pub owner to their damn wedding– that is admirable and awesome. More than this, I think every woman out there recognizes the fact that Princess Diana still has a hold on most of us. Insert Disney hypnosis + tragic death here.  That equals pure gold as far as entertainment value is concerned– no matter how grotesque the concept may be. Women want William and Kate to be happy.  We actually care if they are. We also want to be able to say later in our lives,  “Yep. I watched it. it was amazing.”

Go ahead and mock us. We don’t care. Sure, we were tired that day. Sure, we spent too much money on collector’s magazines instead of that hair dye we needed to buy because ‘my hair has gotten a little bit brassy this spring and I really need to highlight it.’ Sure, we watched every E! highlight on the wedding after the fact and raved about hats, dresses and flowers. Sure, my husband threatened to shut down my cable TV if I talked about “that damn wedding” again. Still, I hold my head high. As do you, my sisters.

Just think, we have a Royal visit coming up soon. I wonder what Kate will wear? I wonder if they’ll dine at the White House? I guess I need to turn on E!

Let me just check and see if my husband is in the house. Nope. I’m home free.

Royals away!

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#9: Sweatsuits

The sweatsuit–God’s greatest creation.tracksuit Or Satan’s.

There are so many varieties I don’t know where to begin. Velour, cotton, spandex, polyester, gauchos– the list goes on and on.

Worn by women for generations, the sweatsuit is the perfect answer to those days when one simply wants to feel ‘comfy’. Style be damned. These fabulous items of clothing hide what women don’t want you to see, yet still come in marvelous shades of red, blue and orange. One minor issue with this idea could be that you look like the Kool-Aid man walking down the street if you go for the monochromatic look. Especially if you are plus-sized. Not a great plan.

If someone shouts “Oh Yeah!” or “Hey–Kool-Aid” at you– change the outfit. It WAS directed at you. Really. Disneysweat

My favorite sweatsuit trend would have to be cartoon icons on adult clothing (Men are guilty of this as well). Look ladies– Tweetie Bird, Mickey Mouse or Winnie the Pooh ARE NOT appropriate items to be placed directly over your boobs. You are an adult. Let it go. Now. Your kids probably hate you when you wear that “Just Hanging Out’ sweatshirt with the cat on it. They probably wish the ground would open up and swallow you into it. Even if they are 6 and 8 years old– that trip to Disney is still no excuse to buy the Donald Duck Sweat in an XL because it’s soft. You look lame.

Not only do women wear these items around the house, but they wear them to the store, the gym, the park and other outdoor locales. American women love this shit. Do you think you’d find a European woman rocking a Pooh sweatshirt to their local market? I think not. But Americans love comfort. Comfort food, comfort cars and comfort clothing.

For some reason, it took the fashion industry a millenium to figure this out.

Until JLo.

JLo created what we all refer to now as the velour tracksuit. Inspired by comfort/outerwear, this ‘sweatsuit’ of sorts combined urban style with a comfy flair. Tight everything. The result was horrific.

In this Celebu-Country that we now live in, women naturally want to wear what the stars have on. Even if that means you perhaps wear something that was not meant for your body…err…type.

Enter this sweatsuit. Or– tracksuit. Whatever. I mean, if you are a female that is shaped like JLo and desires to wear a pair of tight fitting track pants with the word ‘DIVA‘ bedazzled on your ass–  I guess you can handle it. The problem is this: the women that buy this flaming crap are NOT shaped like JLo. They are shaped like Starr Jones— before the surgery. This item of clothing was not made for Starr Jones. It was made for Paris Hilton. Tacky, tacky, tacky. Tight, tight, tight. Just a thought.

After JLo’s curse on the USA, the onslaught of new and improved sweatsuits hit every store from Bloomingdales to Walmart. Most velour, most monochromatic, most ugly. But comfortable. Sweatsuits for the masses, ladies!! They still have not disappeared from the stores. They will live on–forever– in infamy.

And so, I end with these last few thoughts.

That sweatsuit or tracksuit (or whatever the hell it’s called) may be comfortable. I know that you probably love that comfy pair of ‘sweats’ after a long day. More power to you–at home. I can guarantee you this:

  • Yes, you will be mocked if you wear them out.
  • Yes, your kids will hate you for it.
  • Yes, you added 15 pounds to your frame in the traditional design.
  • Yes, it’s too tight on your ass (in the JLo version)
  • No– I do not like the jeweled Juicy on your buttocks.

Another thought before I go– if you wear anything remotely sweatsuity to bed at night– I’m sure that’s a real turn on for the hubby. Sexy choice. And some of us wonder why men cheat…

Thoughts, concerns, angry messages? Bring it.