Yesterday’s nonsensical headline was social-media ‘condemnation’ of the hordes of underdeveloped Asian women rushing into Uniqlo stores to Instagram themselves in children’s clothing.

Apparently, it’s the fashion.

Titless chicks in their twenties may think this is cool, but the world thinks it’s sad.

Not to be outdone, adult males who spend large amounts of time lifting very heavy things are also squeezing into clothing that doesn’t fit.

Witless dicks in their twenties think this is cool, but the world thinks it’s laughable.

There’s an obvious takeaway in all of this.

Wear clothes that fit.

If you’ve pumped so much silicone into your chest that you keep toppling over, then take a hint. If you no longer fit into regular, off-the-rack clothing, then you have gone TOO FAR.

Put it away love, nobody wants to see it.

Fashion victim, or fashion crime? You decide! At the very least, we are witnessing the death of subtlety.

We’re no longer a race capable of leaving anything to the imagination. Is it because we no longer imagine anything? “Hey everybody, look at my BOOBS!” has become the catch-cry of a entire generation, male and female, desperate to be noticed.

It’s all a bit exhausting.

Luckily, you eventually get to a certain age where you become invisible to everybody under 30. Instead of chasing tomorrow’s fashion, you get to settle down with a nice cup of tea to watch Netflix in a pair of polarfleece trackpants and a well-worn hoodie.

And trust me, you’ll be right as rain.

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