My wife receives several catalogs that have at least some relevance to her life.The irony of my wife's Title Nine catalogs is that other than snorkeling, a short-lived experiment with yoga and looking cute on a beach, I don't think she's ever participated in a single activity depicted therein.
The problem with my wife's Title Nine catalogs is that I can look through them and admire the fantastic legs depicted therein, knowing that nothing "categorically inappropriate" (meaning, inappropriate along the wardrobe malfunction lines; not along the "looketh upon a woman to lust" lines, a line that I cross with frequency and zeal) will pop from the page. And so I do.
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