Hot Pants Hotness

Since today is the first of the month they are working me like a red-headed slave (that's worse than a regular slave, by the way). It's totally unfair and in protest I have spent all morning hiding under my desk doing my hot dog impression. It's an excellent impression, but sadly, they are not impressed. Something about invoices and check runs, blah, blah, blah.

So my Peeps, I am totally going to cop out on you an post something I wrote YEARS ago as part of a series for a "big girl" magazine. It's in keeping with our Hotness theme from yesterday and serves as a nice example of how much better my sentence structure has become. At least, I think it's better.

Enjoy!
Well chubby loveys, I wrote in lesson seven about Latina 's in hot-pants, and my desire to be that cool.So off I go to the Wal-Mart in search of a pair of suitably short shorts. Would I find them? Would my ass hang out like a super-sized Hooters Girl? Would they be shiny? Would I, would I, have the guts to wear them? The salesgirl in the plus sized section was your average anorexic teenager, with big hair and bad lipstick, and as I approached her I wondered at the wisdom of engaging in this sort of reckless behavior, after all I am a wife and a mother, and my car DOES have vinyl seats, but undaunted, I sidled up to her and asked, in my best, don't mess with me, I'm a redhead voice, "Uh, do you have any short shorts in a size 20?" And the girl blinked."Miss?"She blinked again. Now, starting to get annoyed, I took a deep breath, ready to start with the voice I used as a concert security guard, when the little pimpled oracle spoke. "I don't know, I work in sporting goods. Let me get Hilda for you." Great I think, get Hilda. My confidence was growing. If I can ask this prepubescent Kate Moss for hot pants I can do anything. But Hilda was not to be found, and so my skinny friend grabs The LOUD SPEAKER! She clears her throat and says "I need customer assistance in the ladies plus sized department for a customer search for SHORT SHORTS SIZE 20" I hear her voice reverberating off the walls. Never have I been so grateful to be up at 8 am on a Monday. The store was mostly deserted.So what to wondering eyes does appear? Six, count them six salesmen! Yes, men. Oh the fear, the desire, to choke little Tiffani with an "I".Famous confidence wavering as Tiffani gestures to me and says "She wants 'em realllly short." Blankly I stare off into the area that she had motioned toward, and then, quick like a cat, throwing caution to the winds, I grab my purse and say
"Yes, and I want them shiny too." Oh the snickers started then...but I was saved! Saved from having to bash in heads, by Jesus! I was Saved By Jesus! Yes, it seems that while Jesus worked in the men's department, the lure of a fat chick in hot pants was enough to drag him away. Jesus took me by the arm and led me to a rack of shorts. He pulls out a red pair and holds them up. Jesus shakes his head, muttering to himself, and then VOILA! Produces a pair in black! Shiny Black! "Try these" Says Jesus "Then come out and show me and I will tell you if they are a good fit. I was a tailor once" So, thanking Jesus I head off to the ladies dressing room, slip into my shorts and twirl before the mirror. I look pretty good I decide and not wanting to deprive my savior Jesus of the site, stroll out to show them to him. So there it is kids. With Jesus' help I now am the proud owner of a pair of short shorts. Will I have the nerve to wear them? Hard to say. After all, if Jesus is stunned to drooling speechlessness by the sight of my butt, how will ordinary non-Wal-Mart employed citizens handle themselves?