So here is the thing Glamor magazine, your fashion advice sucks ass. In what universe is wearing a chiffon see through pant suit with a polka dot bikini on underneath more sophisticated than sequins?
It’s Christmas. There is no reason to tolerate the fucking holidays and their attendant suicides, family togetherness, shops thronged with crazed folks emptying their bank accounts on crap no one wants any way, unless you can wear sequins and eat too much.
To continue in their misguided guide to holidays, instead of several pages of easy to make delicious food to share, they concentrate on the foods you must avoid at all costs. Thanks Glamor, because after all, I couldn’t possibly be glamorous if I wasn’t on a diet.
So now we are clear on the concept of glamor= no fun, lets continue on to the 20th anniversary of Glamor! woman of the year. My flagging faith in fashion types was revived when i saw Fergie on the cover. I mean? she bagged a movie star so she must be woman of the year right?
Even if she pees herself on stage and had that pesky crystal meth issue. For her feminist anthem “my lumps” alone she must be honored. And NATURALLY she beat out the the Somali lady who has a clinic for refugees, and the various heads of state also nominated, because seriously. which one of them would appear on the cover in a pink blazer and nothing else. CLEARLY woman of the year.
Gosh Glamor, you made my holiday season perfect.
