Let’s be honest; last night my legs looked great. I was wearing a little babydoll dress (with shorts under it- just in case) and I had nylons that blended really well with my skin and three inch heels. I was HotLegs. I’m like Kloe Kardashian; not always in love with my torso, but my legs have always been there for me.
Meagan at the Oscars:
“I’d like to thank everyone who has always been there for me…*cry* my mom and my dad and my producer and my agent and my posse and my hairdresser, but most of all my legs. Sometimes they have been a little white, but they’ve always been my best asset.”
It’s better than Kim Kardashian or J.Lo, who really should get up there and thank God for another… ahem, asset, that their mammy gave ‘em.
Hot legs are nice. My legs were feeling rather liberated last night, and I honestly think it helped me to dance better; I was more aware of them or something. And they were kind of eye-magnets for some cute guys, I happened to notice. Unfortunately, they were non-discriminatory magnets; not just cute guys noticed- old guys, ugly guys, fat guys, and creeper guys did too.
Note: I have been told many times that I am too liberal in my opinion of who is good looking, so if I am saying a guy is ugly or something mean, it is the Gospel Truth, brother. But then again, I have been told I am too stingy in my opinion of who is a dang babe also. I think I group most people into a category of ‘yeah- pretty good looking’.
Legs are troublesome things. I wish my legs would discriminate. Alas…
No comments:
Post a Comment