Breast Assured: "Come with me if you want to live!" the stranger implored Christina Aguilera, his hand outstretched. But the popster, who hadn't seen anything below her chest since she discovered pushup bustiers, just flailed her arms wildly at his proffered digits, not unlike when she hits an excruciatingly extended trill while belting out a ballad. "What is it?" she cried, fear creeping into her voice. "Are you from the future? Has Skynet become self-aware?" With her worry growing, she contemplated what lay ahead and realized her favorite feathered coat wouldn't fare well in a war against the machines. And there were the inevitable peroxide shortages to consider. "No," said the stranger, pity in his voice. "Not Skynet. It's your fishnets. They're ready to fight back. Fashion judgment day has arrived, Christina, and if you hope to survive, your girdles, garters and gargantuan cleavage have gotta go."