"...it's like red, but not quite."

I'm thinking that some women just shouldn't wear pink...

     My neighbor for instance.

     Yesterday was near enough like spring for her to venture out of the trailer and ‘get some sunshine’, as they say 'round here.

     I might have preferred drawing my conclusion from a greater distance, but, one of her Pitt Bulls got loose and ran up the road to my place. So, here she came, stalking after the dog, like someone’s Olympic power lifting Valentine, pumped from clearing a 520 bench, wearing bubble-gum pink capri’s and blush T.

     It was in the road's dappled sunlight were I first noticed how the color amplifies the lack of femininity in certain wearers. Much like a tutu would a lady rhino.

     The fact that she was calling for the dog wasn’t helping matters in the least.

     “Mongo!”

     Yes, Mongo.

     Rumor has it; she and her man are both ex truck drivers. My guess is from the Conway Twitty, Pall-Mall and PBR era—heavy on the Pall-Malls. She has a certain Wolfman Jack quality to her voice, an emphysema soaked timbre. And don’t forget, this is the South.

     “Mongo baby!” she calls, tender, motherly, gurgley. “Mongo!”

     Then, at the top of her lung,

     “MONGO! GET OVER HERE!"

    "NOW!"

     Mongo pays no heed, and up the road she continues, alternating between redneck mommy and flat-out redneck.

     Do they call it a beer-belly on women? I would hope, at her age, she’s not pregnant.

     Whatever the name, it's well beyond muffin top and the saving graces of vertical stripes.

     I waved hello.

     Mongo was now being enticed with his bone.

     “I’ve got your bone baby!”

     We could probably add use of the word ‘baby’ to the color pink.

     Mongo caved to the bone.

     If I had any doubts about my theory before, they were squelched when the two stalked home.

     Not that my gaze lingered, but my neighbor has one of those unfortunate flat butts, possibly from her years of truck driving, that seem to be perpetually clenched. I’ve seen them a lot in Wal-Mart.

     I haven’t investigated the physics, but the nature of this butt type, will, in a matter of minutes, inflict a sort of wedgy on its possessor. It looks horribly uncomfortably, even from a distance, and always makes me wonder if the person doesn’t need some assistance, say with a stick, to unhitch the garment.

     I’m no Fashionista, but I would think a darker color would go a long way in disguising this dilemma. Certainly not pink.

     But, if pink makes her happy; it makes me happy.