Frocked
Sometimes I weep for my gender.
Specifically tonight, I weep for the clearly anorexic girl wearing a see-through white dress with black underwear. Although we could see the underwear through the dress in the darkened bar, her ‘dress’ (though I think that’s a generous word) was so short that we would have had a clear shot had she leaned but the slightest bit forward.
So many bad life choices.
While we’re at it: no more smock dresses. The reign of terror ends here, Melbourne.
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