And the award for the Most
Annoying Phrase of the week goes to… “Dare
to bare”.
To be honest, I’ve had this bolt in the chamber for a while now, but Wednesday’s belligerent bare-faced extravaganza tipped me over the edge and made me pull the trigger remorselessly.
Often used as the go-to phrase by women’s magazines and The DM whenever a female celebrity shows any skin that isn’t her wrists, elbows or forehead, “dare to bare” is a fun way (IT RHYMES) to instruct us readers to remove a layer. Sometimes it’s a layer of clothing, sometimes it’s a layer of makeup and sometimes it’s a layer of hair; never knowing what it’ll be next is part of the fun.
“Dare to bare” has irked me a while now, and I’ve built up quite a lot of resentment, but let’s just try to go through this in a systematic fashion, shall we?
Has anyone ever extended the challenge to men?
No. No they haven’t. In fact, when men want to raise money for a cancer charity, they’re actually encouraged to cover their face with more hair, rather than rip it out at the root at fortnightly intervals.
When flicking through GQ and stumbling upon an interesting piece on shorts, are men told to “dare to bare [their] legs”? No. No they’re not. They’re just encouraged to wear the damn shorts if they want to get laid.
I think the ‘dare’ element possibly comes from the fact that choosing to bare yourself at the wrong moment can lead to all sorts of strife. If I “dare to bare” my legs when out in a club then I’m asking for that neon-print-Topman-tee-wearing arsehole to put his hand up my dress as I attempt to get near the bar; that would be the WRONG time to bare.
But, if magazine editorials are to be believed (and really, what is there to suggest that they aren’t?), then when I’m strolling along a St Barths beach, or heading for a light lunch with my gal-pals; that’s RIGHT time to bare.
Don’t get it wrong ladies.
I’m confused. What am I supposed to be baring again?
Is it my perfect pins ready for the summer sunshine? Is it my tarted-up tootsies ready for flip-flop weather? Is it my toned torso ready to rock this season’s crop-top trend? Is it my face to allow my natural beauty to show through? Is it my jaded, withered and rapidly cooling soul?
Apparently, it’s all of the above.
At this rate, I’ll be doing my morning commute wearing nothing but re-useable coffee cup, an open copy of the Metro and a grimace.
And what an image to end on.
To be honest, I’ve had this bolt in the chamber for a while now, but Wednesday’s belligerent bare-faced extravaganza tipped me over the edge and made me pull the trigger remorselessly.
Often used as the go-to phrase by women’s magazines and The DM whenever a female celebrity shows any skin that isn’t her wrists, elbows or forehead, “dare to bare” is a fun way (IT RHYMES) to instruct us readers to remove a layer. Sometimes it’s a layer of clothing, sometimes it’s a layer of makeup and sometimes it’s a layer of hair; never knowing what it’ll be next is part of the fun.
“Dare to bare” has irked me a while now, and I’ve built up quite a lot of resentment, but let’s just try to go through this in a systematic fashion, shall we?
Has anyone ever extended the challenge to men?
No. No they haven’t. In fact, when men want to raise money for a cancer charity, they’re actually encouraged to cover their face with more hair, rather than rip it out at the root at fortnightly intervals.
When flicking through GQ and stumbling upon an interesting piece on shorts, are men told to “dare to bare [their] legs”? No. No they’re not. They’re just encouraged to wear the damn shorts if they want to get laid.
I think the ‘dare’ element possibly comes from the fact that choosing to bare yourself at the wrong moment can lead to all sorts of strife. If I “dare to bare” my legs when out in a club then I’m asking for that neon-print-Topman-tee-wearing arsehole to put his hand up my dress as I attempt to get near the bar; that would be the WRONG time to bare.
But, if magazine editorials are to be believed (and really, what is there to suggest that they aren’t?), then when I’m strolling along a St Barths beach, or heading for a light lunch with my gal-pals; that’s RIGHT time to bare.
Don’t get it wrong ladies.
I’m confused. What am I supposed to be baring again?
Is it my perfect pins ready for the summer sunshine? Is it my tarted-up tootsies ready for flip-flop weather? Is it my toned torso ready to rock this season’s crop-top trend? Is it my face to allow my natural beauty to show through? Is it my jaded, withered and rapidly cooling soul?
Apparently, it’s all of the above.
At this rate, I’ll be doing my morning commute wearing nothing but re-useable coffee cup, an open copy of the Metro and a grimace.
And what an image to end on.
Really nice work. vashikaran love spell
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