I may only be a few years senior to Lindsay Lohan, but I'm starting to feel like her mother. Perhaps it's something to do with reaching GFY saturation levels, but lately, I've found myself having 'thought' conversations with her; although I must admit that they're a little one-sided. It started with her diminishing size ("Yes, I know that there are children starving in the world, but Linds, 'If you can't beat them, join them' isn't necessarily the right move to make on this one"). Then, of course, there was her distinct lack of underwear ("Oh, Lindsay. Haven't you heard the old adage, that you should always wear clean underwear in case you're hit by the Paps?").
Now? Well, I must say that I'm completely lost for words. A jumpsuit. A denim jumpsuit. A one-piece, pocketed, unflattering nightmare that will haunt me forever*. If this isn't a crime against humanity fashion, then honestly, I might just throw out my entire wardrobe and start walking around wearing nought but a bin liner.
*And I apologise in advance for any psychological damage that this post may directly or indirectly afflict upon your sensibilities.
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