Frustrated like whoa...

So, this weekend, I will be venturing to the booming metropolis of Amboy, Illinois. This is the podunk farm town where my father grew up, where my grandparents lived (on their pig farm, of course. No, I'm serious.), and where my uncle still resides.

The occasion?

My uncle's (fifth) wedding. Yes, that's right. Fifth.

But, anyway, I (against my better judgement) went to the mall yesterday in an attempt to find myself an outfit (or at least a shirt) that was cute and classy, yet not totally lesbionic (yeah, I make up my own words. Get over it.). I figure that any questions regarding my "lifestyle" will be answered by the hot soft butch sitting next to me (in a church in Amboy, Illinois...this could get interesting).

So my frustration, after viewing the "summer collection" at several stores in Old Orchard Mall, is this:

Why must I choose between looking like a bull dyke and looking like a two-dollar hooker???

Seriously, people. I love the v-necks as much as anyone, but I didn't think they were supposed to reach down to my stomach and expose way more of the girls than my extended family would be comfortable seeing. And those shirts with two little strings instead of a back (handkerchief shirts, I believe they are aptly named)? Fuggedaboutit.

No offense to those of you who are slight enough to pull that shit off, but it's definitely NOT ME.

So I came home empty-handed. Again.