Don't rush the goal skirt (pt. I)

A woman buys a goal skirt for one of two reasons:

1. she falls in love with a skirt only to find out it's the last one in the store and it's a size too small

OR

2. she wants to lose weight and a black pencil skirt hanging in her closet is a less enraging reminder than her mother's passive-aggressive "do you really need to eat that?"

Either way, the goal skirt journey, if it ends as it should, brings a woman immeasurable satisfaction.

Like, Salma-Hayek-and-Penelope-Cruz-rumors satisfaction.

On the other hand, when the pre-determined two-month timeframe enters into its six or seventh extension, some women begin to grow impatient, and that impatience, unfortunately, can result in a reckless, premature debut.

I shared a few squares of concrete on M between 16th and 17th Streets with one such woman this morning. I slowed my pace to walk behind her, watching her tug and pull and suck-in and attempt to de-pucker her bursting waistline and unhappy seams. I don't think she realized just how much of a show she was putting on for those of us in her wake; her movements were reminiscent of Dick van Dyke's in "Mary Poppins" when he would play all the instruments strapped to his body at the same time. I admit, I was amused at first, but then, as I began to take in the seriousness of the circumstances, the smirk on my Kiehl-ed lips turned into a what-can-I-do-to-help-her? bottom lip bite.

You may be curious as to how I know for sure this offense was goal skirt related and not just a typical case of a DC woman paying no attention to the width of her skirt and the width of her waist.

Hold that thought -- full analytic breakdown after work.