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Dear Fashion Industry,
We've been compadres for a long time, but sometimes you do things I just don't understand. I have to lay it on the table here, there are certain aspects of you I am just not OK with.
For fall, you've given me shoulder pads. Wait, excuse me. "Statement shoulders," is what you call it and I want to make sure I get this right. Frankly, I don't want to look like I have a shrunken head. I also don't have any future plans to play linebacker for the Raiders. I don't care how tiny my waist looks in comparison, there is a reason my mother talks about shoulder pads like someone with post-traumatic stress disorder. There is a reason I look at past photo albums or movies like Working Girl and laugh. Hard.
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