Desperate Housewife

I took Reagan to Little Gym today. I have spoken of the collection of weirdos that attend Little Gym. Well today took the prize.

Ladies, I am not very familiar with the workings of female undergarments, so maybe you can help me out. Ladies, I ask you why? Why would a woman who knows that going to little gym requires bending and crawling and crouching to spot your little one, wear a pair of low-rise jeans and a dental floss thong? I especially want to know why such a woman would wear that combination, when she doesn't have the body to make it work for her.

But that is what I was treated to this morning. One of the mom's, one of the chunkier moms in here mid-30s, was unabashedly rocking the string thong like a 19-year old co-ed on Girls Gone Wild. She never once pulled her jeans up to cover her underwear. She looked like a big ole Christmas ham all tied up and ready for the oven. Thank God Tiernan wasn't there, he would have been pointing at her posterior and saying,"Look Dad, it looks like a T - T for Tiernan." Or worse yet he would have been reaching down pulling it up and giving her piano-string wedgie.

I ask again, why? Why? For attention. Is the the kind of attention she was looking for, overweight, balding, unemployed, housedads using her for blog fodder? That is a desperate housewife.