god did not invent thongs

Considered grading essays Wednesday night. Instead, I opted for cruising cable in search of How the Grinch Stole Christmas and came across the 2008 Edition of the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. I pondered the cruelty of airing such scantiness the week after American women have stuffed themselves with fried turkies and pies rather than a week after, say, a particularly nasty bout of the stomach flu.

I then wondered what the feminine equivalent of such a misogynistic* misstep on the part of CBS executives would be. I came up with some vague notion involving a blackout and the Superbowl but, alas, nothing more.

Perhaps a well-intentioned email to misogynistic CBS executives was in order.

Dear Sirs (clearly):

May I suggest an alternative to airing the annual Victoria's Secret Fashion Show six days after Thanksgiving? Air it instead during the early part of the month of May. May is likely the last stretch of a crash diet prior to the aestival* tradtions of matrimony, weekending in the Hamptons, and attending 15 year high school renunions. I can say with confidence that most women would welcome a swift and inspirational kick in the almost-firm-enough behind by Heidi Klum's stiletto.

Airing the show at this time would not only be a less vile move on your part, but also a strategic one. Especially since it is public knowledge that May is sweeps. I am certain that a fine network such as yours does not wish to alienate a large percentage of its target demographic by making women between the ages of 18 and 34 feel like fat Pilgrims. And you may want to pass the word on to the male (clearly) executives at Victoria's Secret as well. While the majority of viewers for this shamelessly overblown advertisement may be in fact men, trust me, it is women who are buying their own lingerie, save the occasional impulse buy induced by male teenagers' hormonal flare ups.

Sincerely,

Ms.eLLe

Decided against hitting Send (why do these pigs any favors?) and instead hit Record on the remote as the possibilites of saving the show for a later viewing are suddenly clear:
I mean, who among* us has not suffered during the last week of a four-week crash diet when we are positvely wilting and the only mental task we can muster is some quick calculations regarding net carbs? With a little foresight and TiVo know-how on our parts we could hit Play and let Adriana remind us of how far we have yet to go should cake beckon.

Click. Disaster Averted.

And, who among us has not been dumped at least once by The Love of Our Life? Yes, for the exceptionally prescient single woman, TiVo-ing* the VS angels' bronzed exiguity* could prove helpful during the post-breakup right of passage aptly coined Ef You, Effer, You Just Made the Biggest Effing Mistake of Your Effing Life Because Damn I Look Hot (which occurs only after an impressive if unoriginal stint at the bottom of a pint or two of pistachio gelato).

What scorned woman couldn't use a little inspiration to look better than her ex boyfriend's new girl? And what man wouldn't die just a little on the inside should he run into his ex looking like a Brazilian thoroughbred in the organic section of Whole Foods?

I was definitely on to something when puncturing my reveries was the realization that tomorrow was a Block Day, during which I would be in room with my fourth period class for over two hours straight. Ate cake, flipped off Gisele's replacement and went to bed.