It’s summertime in Florida and oh my, is it ever hot. Scorching heat and total humidity is the summer price we pay for not having to own a snow shovel or ice scraper.

Summer is the time when the clothing goal, for most of us, is maximum comfort with natural fabrics allowing our skin to breathe. Sadly, many people equate summer as the time to don outfits as brief as possible and sadder still, most bodies do not accommodate such fashion statements.

If you are over 25, chances are you do not the right body type for the low-slung jeans or shorts and cropped tops that allow your oh-so-fashionable belly button ring to show. However, have a seat outside any shopping conclave and watch as female after female passes by with the hip hung jeans, the cropped top, the pierced belly button and a roll of fat bunched up by the tight top and even tighter jeans. Don’t these people have any friends who can tell them they look simply ridiculous and the rest of the world doesn’t want to see it? Even some of the young ones, in an attempt to look just like their friends, try to pull this off and it just doesn’t work. With the proper clothing, that little roll of fat around their middle would not be seen and they would look simply wonderful.

I’m a big person whose clothing goal is to cover as much as myself as possible in cotton fabrics that flow around my body, rather than cling to it. Nothing is more uncomfortable than tight clothing and tight clothing allows all your flaws to show. I am way past the stage where I can camouflage a few extra pounds, but I clean up nice and do not wear clothing guaranteed to make me look even bigger and unkempt in the bargain.

Spandex? Forget about it. Spandex should not be sold to anyone who weighs more than 120 pounds. Have you ever walked behind some person clad in spandex carrying more than a few extra pounds? The view is not pretty. Again, where are these peoples’ friends—a mirror won’t do in situations like this but someone you love should whip out the phone camera and give you a view of yourself as you walk down the street. Either those clothes will be in a Goodwill bag in a hurry or you’ll be looking for a copy of Buns of Steel.

Men aren’t any better. The other day I had to go out early. Early—as in before a cup of coffee or breakfast to run a quick errand. At the first stop light, my vision is assaulted by the stark whiteness of a middle-aged belly overhanging a pair of shorts and wearing no shirt. Please, cover it up. No one should have to witness that before coffee or even after a hearty breakfast. Just because men can go topless, it doesn’t mean they should.

Speedos. Go to Europe. They are used to it over there and again, few have the body and nobody wants to witness an anatomy class at the beach.

I’ve noticed that men have gotten a little smarter when it comes to clothes. For years, you never saw a man with his shirt outside his pants, no matter how big the belly. There they were in their nylon shirts, stretched so tight over the belly the fabric threatened to burst, and wearing shorts, socks and sandals. Oh what a sight.

These days men are not only wearing sleeveless shirts, but if they have a bit of middle-aged paunch, they let the shirt hang out. They aren’t fooling anyone, but they do look better. Why accentuate your flaws by stretching a shirt across it. All you see is the belly and if you can tell if it’s an innie or an outie, the shirt is too damned tight.

So please, do us all a favor this summer and buy a full-length mirror. Barring that, get a second opinion before you go public with the outfit of the day.

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The people at Porter’s Barbeque are obsessed with The Dude. The employees there have been first to call eight of the last nine issues. Virtually every employee has won. As we have a six-month limit between wins, they have been informed they have to stop for a few months. If the barbeque is as good as the sharp eyes of the employees, we should all flock there immediately.

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I don’t want to be one of those journalists who uses a decades old photo in an attempt to be youthful, so I’ve
swapped the three-year-old photo of me with a new one, taken from an angle that at least eliminates one of my chins.

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