A Fashion Statement?

A couple of weeks ago, there was a professional boxing match at Wolff Stadium and I got the chance to work it.  I've watched amateur boxing when I was in the Navy and back when television was

in black and white when Gillette was the sponsor for Friday Night Boxing.  The crowd as a whole was very, very nice and polite, and I certainly enjoyed my 6-hours of being there.

 

I was thoroughly expecting some of my Trailer Trash Thursday fans from baseball season to be there; however, the $25 general admission tickets most likely kept them at home AND the beer did cost more than a $1 for 12 ounce cold one.  These outlandish prices aren't suitable for the Spam Eaters on the west side of town.  Like I said earlier, general admission was $25, but to get a table at ring side was $50 and $60, and all 100 of these seats were filled. There was a total of 700 people at the matches.

 

 

Keep in mind the boxing ring was on the baseball field between home plate and the pitchers mound, and every table and metal chair was on the grass infield....this is certainly good information to have.  Men are men when it comes to what they'll wear to a sporting event and it normally consists of blue jeans, boots or tennis shoes, a shirt without holes and maybe a baseball cap.  

 

The majority of the women, however, were dressed as though they were attending a concert or night club.  I couldn't keep count of the number of women who either wore spiked high heels or those tall club-footed platform heels.  The shoes were obviously coordinated with their "very tight" pants, some being made of leather and others were Spandex, and lllooowww cut blouses to enable the girls to get a view.  And they wore enough bling-bling to raise the Wal-Mart stock 10 points.  As I punched their ticket to go onto the infield toward their tables, I kept saying to myself "Ladies.... ladies.... ladies!  You're at a ballpark for cryin' out loud, not the Hilton.  Where are you're comfortable shoes?"  By the end of the 8th and final boxing match, the total count for shoe related problems were: 3 broken heels, 1 twisted ankle, 4 "oh shit, I just bought these" and 14 spilled beers.  Not bad....it could've been worse.

 

 

Obviously I don't wear high heels nor can I consume enough adult beverages in a year to entice me to do so.  However, common sense should prevail when drinking tubs of beer and/or soda and wearing spiked heels.  Just to reach the women's restroom was a feat in its' self requiring athletic skill and agility.  First, they had to go up 57 concrete steps, a short 25 yard dash to the toilet, and to only be met by a long line of other women waiting their turn to get in.  Oh, those bladders just don't hold as much as they should.

 

Of all the females that were in attendance, there was one that stood out from all the others.  She looked to be in her mid-20's, wore an extremely tight pair of gray Spandex pants, some kind of fringed blouse that would've looked better at a rodeo and a pair of butt ugly spiked heels that looked as though she kicked a zebra in the ass and walked off.  It wasn't what this woman wore that caught everyone's attention (yes, both men and women) it was the size of her butt!  I'll kiss your fanny on main street and give you three days to draw a crowd if I'm lyin', but it looked as though the woman had two basketballs stuffed in the ass of those pants!  And with every step she took, the cheeks of her chubby butt bounced up and down so fast they could've drove a 10-penny nail into a concrete cinder block.  My middle brother has a name for women like that and he says they have "pizza butt", meaning their butt is so big that a 14" pizza could sit on their butt and not slide off. 

 

 

Yes, it's very tacky and not sociably acceptable to talk about a persons short comings, but when Ronald McDonald is envious because you look more like a clown than he does....then it's time to look at yourself in the mirror before leaving the house.  I'm just sayin'......