Well, now I just feel betrayed. In the immortal words of Tyra Banks, "Wah-WAAAAAAAH." So captivated was I by Alicia Keys' lack of uncomfortably skintight pants and/or crotch-chafing jumpsuit, I never really LOOKED at her legs. If I had, I would have noticed -- thanks to some truly unfortunate backlighting -- that while she has a very nice pair of gams, apparently there is a reason she defaults to pants.
Your eyes do not deceive you: That is leg hair. Let's go in for a close-up:
Your eyes do not deceive you: That is leg hair. Let's go in for a close-up:
Actually, that's not even run-of-the-mill leg hair. That's not a little light growth that caught the light in a freak accident. That's either stubble she recently rubbed vigorously with cotton balls, or the kind of leg fur a girl can get in the dead of winter when it seems sort of pointless and time-consuming to shave because you're just going to be wearing pants everywhere anyway, so who's going to know? And I am not judging on that one -- I, like almost anyone else who's ever lived in a cold climate (and even some warm ones), have been there. But usually, when I am there, and I am faced with changing into something that would expose my lapse of memory, I think, "OH MY GOD, I FORGOT TO SHAVE," and immediately course-correct by either a) shaving, or b) wearing something else. What kills me here is that she WAS in a lovely long sheath that would have worked perfectly well if, while changing, she had brushed up against her leg and thought, "That's funny, I don't remember taping a teddy bear to my shin," and then realized her error. She didn't HAVE to change into this. ALICIA. GIRL. NO. AAARGH. Diametrically opposed to my earlier euphoria, I imagine THIS is how Dr. Drew feels when he listens to Gary Busey explaining the meanings of his crazy self-invented acronyms and insisting on calling himself a "participant" and not a patient," and thinks to himself, "Dude, I don't know if I can fix this. The problem is TOO BIG."
What kills me even more: A jumpsuit would have solved this problem. Poor Alicia was damned either way. Or maybe it's just me, and I should be embracing her for not caring. In a way, I kind of do, but I kind of can't put myself in those shoes because I would shave the heck out of myself in this situation. I turn it over to you, dear readers:
