Spring, glorious spring is here in a big way. It has been unseasonably warm, 80 plus degrees, for several days. The Bradford pears are in bloom, wild onions are in the air and the mowing has begun. Old man winter has been licked again. Beaten into submission and locked away for the next several months. Hot dang! The jackets and pantyhose are being relegated to the bottom drawer, and I don’t have to wear real shoes anytime soon. Can you say pedicure? I can’t dig out my shorts and t-shirts fast enough. Hubby and I were walking through Walmart the other day, rejoicing over the wonderful warm weather when he made the profound statement that “The only down side to summer is that some women are compelled to dress like that”. He pointed to a woman at the jewelry counter, and I practically shouted “Amen”. The 40-something woman was, as my southern grandmother used to say in her passive aggressive way, somewhat fleshy. She had on duck shorts, you know, two inches below the quack…a tank top about three sizes too small, a belly ring and 16 million tattoos down the side of her leg. Hello! When you are 40 plus, no one wants to see your belly (unless you’re Halle Berry), even when it’s slim and trim. They don’t want to see your saggy boobs (unless they’re a middle school boy, in which case they want to see any boobs), and a belly ring just looks stupid on you. Pu-lease! Do not let me see the cheeks of your butt. Ladies, let’s make a pact that we will dress for the warmth this year, but not like we’re going to the corner strip joint.