Now that fall has arrived,
so has the social season.
With that comes a plethora
of galas that are anything
but gay. Rubber chicken
extravaganzas can consume
most mid-week evenings.
If you are looking for a free
meal, it's easy to find a seat
at a ten thousand dollar table.
Somehow they're all the same.
These events consist of endless diatribes and tributes with no consideration for audience attention spans. Such disregard shows that our hosts care about little more than the cash they collect. Meanwhile we snooze.
It used to be easy for us guys. On
the appointed day, you went to work,
came home early, threw on a monkey
suit, hopped into a cab, and partied!
Now the call is for "cocktail attire"
which means either a dark suit or
some other odd concoction. Sadly
in today's casual world, a tuxedo
seems to be just a bit too much.
Why does it have to be so hard?!
If the ?? fits wear it
Like so many men of my orientation,
I want to look my best. That usually
means that before any of these events,
I run around town like a maniac trying
to find the perfect ensemble. Maybe
it's me but everything seems to be cut
quite a bit tighter. Fashionable options
are now sized in the male equivalent
of Juniors. Yesterday I gave up and
rushed over to Rochester Big & Tall
to try on some fuller evening frocks.
I donned on a $300 velvet jacket and
THANK GOD IT DID NOT FIT!
I'll squeeze you in
Miraculously even their smallest size
was too big! For now that means I'm
stuck in a sort of fashion purgatory.
Somewhere between heaven (Cucinelli)
and hell (Tallia). Fortunately I've found
one secret weapon that I call MANX.
The male equivalent of a girdle, these
"compression garments" help reign in
my errant flesh. Guess I'm stuck with
them, fabulous shoes, and commodious
cashmere knits until I can dump these
extra pounds. Or even better, I have an
idea... I'll just stay at home!