Almost went with
bare legs under my dress this morning but chickened out.
Not exact matches
Once the sun goes down it becomes a casual dress to pair
bare legged with flat sandals or to wear over a pair of SKINNY WHITE JEANS (these are
under $ 40) and NUDE STRAPPY HEELS!
Because they're at the Calvin Klein Collection show in spring - y pastels and
bare legs while the rest of us wear long johns
under our jeans and snow boots.
If it's not warm enough yet for
bare legs, wear tights
under your hot pants!
Since we shot these pictures before it got really cold, I'm rocking
bare legs still, but adding tights would be no problem
under either of these skirts.
And in case you're wondering how I can wear a skirt with
bare legs in winter, I'm not... I've got my skin colored tights on Remember last month when I was telling you how I wear tights
under all my clothes in the winter, but my tights have a run in them and I really need to buy a new pair?
► A woman calls a female student and a man who had raped her to the front of a class (the man's face is covered with several bandages) where the first woman orders them to have sex and the younger woman disrobes: we see her
bare breasts and nipples, part of one hip, and her
legs as she spreads them while leaning back against a desk while the man stands between her
legs, he drops his pants (his shirttail covers his crotch but reveals partially
bare thighs), spits on his fingers and rubs his groin
under his shirt; the camera cuts to the second woman's face as she says, «A shame,» (implying there was no erection) and the man pulls up his trousers and leaves the room (we see one of the woman's breasts and her
bare back as the camera cuts to the man leaving).
The
legs are a hair away from the sleekness of advertising, the
barest suggestion of a varicose vein or two just
under the surface.
From then until his death, in 1980, at 66, * Guston left abstraction behind and made some of the most memorable and influential paintings of the late 20th century, big and small: huge, gloppy, opaque - colored images of Ku Klux Klansmen driving around in convertibles, smoking cigars; cyclopes heads, in bed, staring at
bare lightbulbs; piles of
legs and shoes; figures hiding
under blankets, clutching paintbrushes in bed.
I don't have to put up with my husband not doing his fair share of the housework (actually, we were both equally crap at that), not being involved enough as a parent (erm, I was the one being caned for not doing enough craft with the kids), leaving his fingernail clippings piled on the arm of the sofa (geez that used to get on my goat) and hogging the bed covers (that wasn't a problem either, he was a lizard shivering
under the doona while I constantly had a
bare leg sticking out to cool down).