The other stand-out was Katherine Heigl of Grey’s Anatomy whose dress was the only thing during the entire evening that made me pause the television. Both my husband and I went from lying down on the couch to sitting up straight and leaning toward the television to get a closer look. “Her hair looks nice,” he said dryly in a very poor attempt to convince me that it wasn’t her gigantic, glistening chest that had sent a shiver up his back. I told him that this was one of those instances when he was allowed to look below the woman’s chin because something that stunning shouldn’t go unappreciated. Her dress was the color of liquid gold, and it hugged her body like the hand of God. “If it makes you feel any better,” my husband said reassuringly, “I bet the only reason her chest looks that amazing is because right before she walked on stage a thousand tiny fairies appeared and licked an ocean of cocaine off her breasts.” Yes. That makes me feel so much better. Not only is her chest flawless, but it is also magical.
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