There comes a time when we all need to pull together. Be it to unify and fight the oncoming throng of Zombies, salivating for what is encapsulated in our cranium or just for a real big spooning session for which you claim is just to keep warm. Some of us are already friends, some prettier than others, but many new faces, strangers brought together focused on one important goal: Finding something cute to wear.
Sure, there is always one stickler who is always stressing "survival", but whats the point if you are wearing overalls? If they are not becoming on farmers and pregnant women why would you be able to rock 'em out? But I digress...
So this Self-Appointed-Leader-of-the-Pack(S.A.L.P.) who happens to know something or another about weaponry, survival tactics and general wilderness safety blah, blah, blah, will always try to discourage you from going into adorable little boutiques, in quaint little towns that you may be passing through to get "real supplies." You are gonna need to get creative. That S.A.L.P. doesn't see the value of a rhinestone studded, deep v-necked gown in a post-apocalyptic world! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?! With the fall of Vogue and Cosmo right before the outbreak, you were left to fend for yourself and define your own new-world trends. Now what to wear, what to wear...
This isn't the first time this S.A.L.P has neglected your need for ongoing beauty. You may recall a certain powerbar/ lotion incident where he refused to hold your purse, preventing you from getting some much needed skin moisturizer. You can either tap into your inner sassy bitch, get loud and invite the horde directly to your hiding space or succumb to his stupid leadership and plot... I mean, plan on using your best assest. Your brain. Blast! No, I mean, beauty!
Thus far, you've followed the pack, carried your own purse and still feel underapprecciated. Soon, they will try and use someone as bait to save the others and you need to show them why they can't use you.
S.A.L.P.: you there! In the heels! We need you to create a diversion so we can get everyone out safely.
You: I can't. You need me. I made this Princess Leia style brassiere outta tin can lids... ouch!
S.A.L.P.: WHAT? Why? Are you bleeding? put a shirt on.
You: Don't be jealous. I can make one for everyone... except the fat chick. She should be bait. You need me!
Baffled and confused as the S.A.L.P. may be, you've done it! You've established yourself as useful and so the industrial styled post-apocalyptic fashion era has begun! Next on your to-do list is old motor oil eyeliner and poisonous-berry rouge and lipstick. Genius!
Now, some may still not get it. But only because you forget to mention the practical applications of your new bikini. In a tough situation, against Zombies or Raiders, reach down and behold! Ninja tin-can throwing stars! Swiftly toss at an undead foe to hopefully slow him down and buy you more time to get your makeup bag. Raiders want your lotion? Zing! Watch them wince in pain then slow to a stop as they watch you uncover your bazooms. Awestruck by your sudden nudity and obvious beauty, they will never notice the S.A.L.P approach from behind, yelling at you to put a shirt on. You have just saved the team! The head shaking from the others is just them not knowing how to say thank you.
I'll say it for them. Thank you!
You have saved the group and kick-started a fashion revolution. Obviously, you are more than a pretty face. You have a delicious brain, too.
Until next time... stay pretty and prepare.