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They are everywhere. In our TVs on the covers of our magazines, on the everyday products we buy, and worst of all, in the very schools we pay serious money to attend. We’ve all seen them. They have infiltrated our buildings and classrooms. We share the same air with them, and all too frequently, the same dressing rooms. They are the beautiful 5% of the population who have the fashion sense to match. Therefore, genetically speaking, they are fashionable freaks of nature.

What makes these individuals freaks is not simply that they are fashionable, nor simply beautiful. It is the combination of the two that is so deadly. Everyone, male and female alike, will agree that whenever they see these sultry individuals saunter in their direction, their knees go weak and their ankles go limp. People literally fall over themselves, and these freaks of nature do not care. They simply parade by, flipping their hair, or leveling sexually devastating looks at any poor sap that happens to be standing in their line of fire.

  
 
They have no concern for the average, ugly citizen, oh no. They seem to glory in our misery – eating disorders and muscle cramps. They smile serenely at our efforts at weight loss and make-overs, and insist that they wish they looked as good as the rest of us.

Since these freaks of nature are in increasing danger of being mutilated to the point that only their dentist will know who they are, I have laid down a few simple rules to avoid painful blood letting.

Don’t complain about your “weight problem.”

If you’re a six-foot tall willowy blonde, or a tanned well-muscled giant with a piercing gaze, shut up. We don’t want to hear it. The 95% of the population who are too skinny, too fat, too narrow, too broad, have poor weight distribution (the butt is frequently the only place the body can put its fat stores), have no breasts, breasts are too big, or simply have no access to a full length mirror, have real image problems. There’s nothing more dangerous than a redhead with a perfect figure complaining to her dumpy best friend that she just can’t lose those last five pounds.

I have a friend with a gorgeous roommate who constantly complained that she couldn’t lose her extra weight. My friend eventually cut the girl’s thick hair to the scalp in an effort to help her roommate lose those last pesky pounds.

Don’t whine about members of the opposite sex constantly flirting with you.

You secretly love it; don’t even try to deny it. The rest of us would give our eyeteeth to be as socially busy as you on the weekends.

Use caution in the mall dressing rooms.

I don’t know about men, but women are constantly battling posttraumatic stress syndrome due to the dressing room. More and more women have been taken out of the mall wearing a straight jacket in the last decade than any previous decade. I swear that it is the work of a single woman with her own strange vendetta. She’s blonde, with perfect breasts, and a butt you could bounce a quarter off of. Her tummy is flat, and her legs are long and perfectly tanned. She tries on a black leather cat suit, which on a normal woman, would either look like a sausage stuffed to bursting in a shiny casing, or like a spoon dipped in tar. She levels a smug look at her neighbor in the next mirror.

“Does this make me look fat?” she asks. The neighbor, usually a frumpy housewife with bad hair and a few extra pounds around her middle, shoots a dirty look at this goddess, and replies with a curt, “No.”

What happens next is what pushes most women screaming over the edge.

A herd of about seven children, all of whom look like the cat suit goddess, stampede into the dressing room and begin to beg for lunch. Immediately, the goddess’s mirror neighbor begins to foam at the mouth, and drops to the floor in convulsions. Ten minutes later, an ambulance from the looney bin is carting off the frumpy woman. She babbles incoherently about bottle bleach and Charlize Theron.

Don’t flirt with anyone wearing a ring on the ring finger of their left hand.

This is particularly dangerous to the Fashionable Freaks. While the person you’re flirting with may enjoy the attention you’re so mercifully granting them, their spouse does not appreciate it. Nothing will make a member of the 5% uglier, than a large jealous person rearranging their face.

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