but, man, I just could not resist this
There are a few items of clothing that I cannot bear. But don’t get me wrong, other than popsocks I’m not ruling out any female clothing for myself. I’m talking about men’s clothing. I’m particularly talking about men’s clothing that I would object to my husband wearing. And I’m not backwards in coming forwards with (constructive ) criticism on that front. You may think I’m a controlling evil witch, but I prefer to think of myself as an essential force field between him and bad taste.
I’ve written about Meeester and his sartorial mistakes before. But wait-hold your horses- don’t head off to that post yet. The ultimate has happened. Something that knocks all previous horrors literally into a cocked hat- a hat of cocks if you will. Meeester has bought himself a baseball cap.
I loathe baseball caps. Loathe them. In fact I pretty much loathe any sportswear that is worn as ...well clothing that is for sport, but that people are just wearing whilst NOT doing sport. Don’t even get me started on football strips. The very fact that they make football strips big enough for beer bellies to fit into should tell us all something.
And yes I realise that a lot of you reading are thinking, “But I have a football strip that I wear whilst on holiday where I intend to do no sport more taxing than going down a water flume...what’s wrong with that?” But well, there it is something wrong with that. I loathe sports gear worn off the pitch/field/court. You're all going to have to suck that up, I'm afraid. I've never claimed to be especially tolerant.
So back to baseball caps. Meeester bought one. In fact he bought one a good few months ago when we were having a lot of rain. He knows my feelings on the so called “hats”, so he went on the offensive immediately.
“Before you even start, I bought this because when I go out with the dog I am sick of my face getting soaked. I saw this for a couple of quid and I thought- that’ll do for me out in this weather. I need something to stop the water pouring down my face. And I warn you, if you put this in the bin behind my back....well, I will not be happy. And...." he wagged his finger in a threatening manner "I will buy another one!”
A threat indeed.
“You promise to wear it only when you are out with the dog?”
“And only if I’m not with you.”
(Sigh) “For goodness sakes. Yes!”
I move on before he tried to get me to agree to him wearing jogging bottoms- I don’t even ask to inspect the hat. I do not recognise it in the way certain Arab states do not recognise Israel.
But before long I spot it whilst alone in the house. It's as if the bastard were calling my name- taunting me from the porch shelves where it lay between wellies and dog leads. Curiosity wins me over, and I approach the offending article and pick it up. It is then that I spot a design on its frontage that upon closer inspection appears to be seven filthy shades of wrongness. I pray to god that Meeester has bought it quickly, snapping up a so-called bargain, and not really taken in what the design actually is. “Please God, let him not have meant this!”
Yes, my friends, it says “Golddigga”.
And that m’lud concludes the case for the prosecution.
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