The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor

April

The Architect

Clay

Making Fun of Their Mom


Fast Tube by Casper

What the heck is a blouse?

I have a very good friend that is a decade younger than me. She’s a lot like a little sister because on occasion she will email me a picture of her in an outfit and ask, “Does this look good together?” And I love her so much and trust that she will still love me after I say,”NO! Don”t ever wear that, ever.”

Today she emailed me a photo of her in an outfit that I told her she couldn’t wear right now, because it’s not right for the season. Then I told her to look for a blouse and a jacket. Her reply was, “What the heck is a blouse?”

And that is when I had to pause and wonder if our age gap makes me an old person that doesn’t know anything about fashion. Because I still believe that you can’t wear white or open toed shoes until after Memorial Day. I also try to stick with light on the top and dark on the bottom.

After all I didn’t take Mrs. Short’s clothing class in high school for nothing. I learned a lot of valuable information in that class. However, it was 1988 and there is a slight possibility that some of those critical fashion faux pas are now, in fact, fashionable.

But, for my friend’s sake and for my daughter, whom has no fashion sense AT ALL, I thought I would write a list of fashion rules that I try not to break and therefore everyone should probably do the exact opposite.

1. Never wear boots past March, except cowboy boots.

2. Never wear white shoes or carry a white purse until after Memorial Day. Um, I might be carrying a white purse with big colorful flowers on it right now.

3. Never wear jeans to church on Sunday. Clay, Seth and Isaac wore jeans to church yesterday. sigh

4. Never wear a dark bra under a light shirt. Do we need to talk about April’s bra debacle of the past few months? I found myself wearing a sports bra under a sweater a couple of days ago giving me a nice flat uni-boob look.

5. Never wear a sports bra under a sweater.

6. You can wear jeans that are from the 70’s but not the 80’s or 90’s.

7. Just say no to acid wash.

8. Never give away any jewelry because it will come back in fashion.

9. If you don’t wear something for a year get rid of it.

10. Hunt down all the stuff you got rid of because it is now in fashion.

11. Keep everything.

12. If it’s old call it vintage.

13. If it’s new call it chic.

14. If it’s torn call it shabby.

15. If it’s stained call it grunge.

16. Only old people call shirts blouses.

17. Underwear for boys.

18. Panties for girls.

19. Boxers for guys.

20 Thongs for flossing.

21. Bras should be optional and made with chicken feathers and bailing twine.

22. Having one pair of decent jeans will force you to wear skirts or old sweat pants everyday.

23. Challenging yourself not to buy new clothes for nearly a year will cause you to gain weight.

24. Gaining too much fat in your bodacious areas will decrease the amount of pants that fit over your soft jiggly parts.

25. Excuse me while I curl into a fetal position and cry for a few days…….never mind I’m too chubby to curl into a ball…….I’ll just recline on the couch in my tight jeans and whimper for a bit…….never mind….I can’t bend over…..or breath…..

26. Sweat pants are God’s gift to a chubby housewife. Wear them everyday.

27. Wear whatever the heck you want.

28. I hate clothes.

29. I’m never getting dressed again.

30. Never ask me a fashion question.

Dear Mom, I’m sorry.

Dear Mom,

I’d like to apologize to you for making you live with me from the ages of eleven to twenty.

I’d like to say I’m sorry for all the times you were explaining the ways of the universe to me, but I couldn’t understand anything you were saying because I was too busy rolling my eyes to the back of my head and sighing very loudly.

I totally understand why you sat down at the piano and banged out gospel songs after you would send Rechelle and me to bed and vacuumed the house at five o’clock in the morning. It was your way of irritating us while avoiding beating us to death.

I’m sorry you didn’t have a blog to escape to.

I’m sorry I thought you were stupid for making me do all those useless tasks like; clean my room, do laundry, help make dinner and spend time at home. It was so hard for me to do those things when I was walking around with my eyes rolled back in my head, I hope you understand, because I can see quite clearly now….especially since I got glasses.

Remember all those times you said, “I hope you have a kid that is just like you, then you’ll understand what I’m talking about?!”

I totally understand.

I also want to thank you for teaching me the fine art of embarrassment. Remember all the times you sang and danced in the car to songs you didn’t know? Remember how you would get out your Mary Kay lipstick in the compact case with the three shades and apply it with that little retractable brush while looking the in the rear view mirror? Ugh, that was so embarrassing, and yet, brilliant. Remember yelling at us down the stairs in the basement to move the car because we parked it in the wrong spot on the driveway and when you finally poked your head through the door ranting and raving we were filming a spoof for the Johnny Carson show with a few of our friends? Oh, wait….that was Dad, never mind. But, wow, that was really humiliating, thanks Dad, I’ll keep that one on the back burner.

Again, sorry you didn’t have access to a blog.

I also want to retroactively ask your permission to wear all your clothes and your pearl necklace that I broke. Also, I won’t get ticked when I see you likewise raid my closet and show up at school wearing my choir dress that no fewer than twelve other girls own and have no doubt that you are wearing the choir dress….to school…..in front of everyone….my choir dress…..in public……dear God, that was a priceless moment, I don’t think I can top that one. Nor was I able to convince the entire school that you were NOT MY MOTHER.

I’m sorry for the times that I didn’t claim you as my mom.

I’m sorry for not thanking you for all the time you spent driving me to dance classes. That is, until you discovered Rhonda Jarrett and her VW Bug and basically turned all parenting responsibilities over to Rhonda, the perfect older girl in the neighborhood that was able to protectively herd Rechelle and me through junior high and the first two years of high school. Thank God for Rhonda.

I am in serious need of a Rhonda and her VW Bug right now and also, could I get a male version of Rhonda for the boys?

Mom, I want you to know that at some point in my twenties you became a very smart woman with great ideas. I hope I can live long enough to become a smart woman with great ideas, it appears that I’ll be teetering in that dancing in the car phase for many, many years to come. I fear I’ll become so proficient at embarrassing the kids that it will become my normal to sing in an opera voice to all the songs on the radio and shake my shoulders while holding the steering wheel………wait……is it normal to do those things when the kids aren’t in the car? I think I have a problem.

Mom! What am I going to do?! When am I going to be normal?

My kids are too spread out for me to have a break between wanting to bash their faces into their smelly laundry and looking at them with love and admiration for MOVING OUT OF MY HOUSE! I am always going to have someone in emotional upheaval, hormonal egress and behavioral malfunction.

Mom, please feel sorry for me.

I really am sorry for having been a teenager and putting you through hell. Now, will you please come get all your grandchildren……wait, leave them here, come get me and take me home with you? Please, rescue me from these kids! They are driving me CRAZY!!!

I love you the most.

Your Favorite Daughter,

April