Lecture #117 – Dear Fashion Gods – Please save us 30-somethings from Leggings and short shorts!
June 1, 2012
Tell me you’ve gone shopping only to look around the store thinking to yourself, “Um, when did this store quit selling clothes I can wear?” Tell me I’m not the only one!
It is quite evident that many of us are no longer 21-years-old. That being said, we understand that shopping in the juniors section of a store is probably not appropriate for us. However, we are thirty and forty-somethings, not destined for an early grave wearing a polyester muumuu yet either! Hello, there is a middle ground! Yes, I was alive for the original Michael Jackson era, but we were not around for the discovery of Stone Henge. Therefore, in no capacity should we be expected to be wearing elastic-waisted Allison Daleys yet. Why people why? Why are there no clothing options between teenybopper and grandma-wear? And if you dare to tell me that I can slip on a tailored jacket and sensible shoes, I might just run over you with my shopping cart! For the love of all things trendy, why must I wear a tailored jacket just because I’m over the age of 30? I hate to tell you but some of us are a little more fun than a 2-button blazer and black pumps. No thank you! In fact, somebody somewhere deserves a letter about it.
Dear Fashion Designers,
We, the general population of America, need you to think of us! We understand that you design for the upper echelon of high fashion and we are only the lowly people that actually buy clothing, but please for the love of non-hideous people, look at the demographics! It is quite apparent that all of you wear a double-negative, or at the very most, dare I say it? A four! But hello, the average size of the female population is a size 14! At what point will you realize it is unkind to put high-waisted pants, leggings, and no-bra-allowed-shirts out there in refrigerator sizes and larger? No child wants their mother to wear a skinny jean that says Juicy on her ass! Seriously. And not only do they not want to see their mom wearing it, but they do not want to see their big-butted aunt squeeze her ripples of cottage cheese into Saran Wrap-like fabric someone decided to label as “leggings” that are considered appropriate to wear sans pants to go to their flute recital. It’s just not right.
Listen, I watch my fair share of Fashion Star and Project Runway. I even read my Glamour magazine, but I am not meant to wear some of that. I know that, but not everyone does and our options are limited even if we know it! I mean, if you can make Jessica Simpson look fat with your designs, then obviously the rest of us should not be wearing them! Many of us really do want to look good and possibly even appropriate for our age, but very few of us are willing to put on jeggings, a jumpsuit, short shorts, or a 3 inch mini skirt to go out in public. In fact, we shouldn’t! We are grown adults who have to sit down sometimes without showing parts that ought not be seen. We do not have personal trainers and eat grapefruit for every meal to be seen on the red carpet. The only carpet we see is the kind in our den that we keep noticing needs to be replaced because our neighbors spilled wine on it a couple of years ago.
Why does it matter? It’s really quite simple. We have to wear clothes! Nobody wants to see us nekkid. Trust me!
I think I speak on behalf of the masses when I say, “Give me something between a white spaghetti strapped shelf-bra-tank top/pajama pants combo and a matching rhinestone hoodie and sweats windsuit set.” Also, please quit suggesting I wear scarves and slipper moccasins in 105 degree temperatures, and while you’re at it, put some underwire in those swimsuits so the girls look perkier than a dog with a bone in sight. And would it be too much to ask for a shoe that has arch support (because I’m not 18 and I do need foot support much to my freaking dismay and distress), but would still appeal to the non-Betty White age group, and can actually be worn for longer than the 10 minute walk from your car to office without the use of band-aids?
I’m sure everybody has an opinion and everybody shares it with you, but I’m not asking for miracles. I’m asking for flattering.
Sincerely,
Little Miss 30-Something
Lecture #116 – 2 decades, 50 pounds, 3 diplomas, and a lot of white hairs later…the lessons learned
May 24, 2012
Twenty years ago today, I graduated from high school. Holy buckets, batman! Twenty freaking years! And if you’re a kid, you’re saying “you’re old” and if you’re an adult, you’re saying “I know. Where does time go? I can’t possibly be that old.” (But you are. If you need proof, we didn’t have internet, cell phones, or boxers hanging out of sagging jeans. Hence, we are old.)
But the good news is, I’ve learned a few things. Now, would I first recommend Bill Gates’ advice on life? Yes. Do I have a few things to add? Yes. Are you shocked? No.
Lesson #1 – Avoid pot-stirrers. They suck the life out of you behind your back. Always surround yourself with good people. They’re damn hard to find, but worth every penny, beer, and bowl of ice cream you have to bribe them with to keep them around.
Lesson #2 – Balance. Sure, it would be smart to balance your checkbook, your schedule, or weight, but really, the way I see it there are the things you need to be doing and the things you want to be doing. Rarely do they mesh so you have to balance between the two opposing sides. If you can do that, you’re effing amazing. Just sayin’.
Lesson #3 – Don’t try to keep up with the Joneses, unless of course that forces your hand to donate more to the local 4-H or church, coach a little league team that’s coach-less, or scoop the elderly lady’s driveway. If it’s to buy a pretentious car you can’t afford or put your children in a private horse club because that’s what the snotty bitches at work or next door do, then man up! In the real world, people like other people who have principles and integrity, not stupid sheep baaing at the herd. (Boy, do I hate sheep! They climb fences. They’re loud. Damn lambs.)
Lesson #4 – Be who you are and don’t look too close at it. Twenty years later, I still don’t fit in with the crowd. I still am a little overweight with bad teeth and a smart ass (it’s also big, but I prefer to think of the smart part). On the other hand, I am not so un-okay with myself that I have to have plastic surgery to fix my wrinkle creases on my forehead or suck the extra dimples off my butt. Just don’t stare in the mirror too long or judge your checking account too harshly and all is good.
Lesson #5 – Family first. Hate on whoever you want after that, but spouses, kids, parents, siblings, and whoever else you’re related to should get first priority. Why? Why wouldn’t they? We are often worst to the people who are the closest to us because they have to love us no matter what. Hence, love them no matter what and do what you can to be a member of the family without coddling. Don’t be juvenile and not talk to them. If you are an adult, act like one.
Lesson #6 – Money makes life easier so work your ass off for it. I know they say all that bullshit about money can’t buy happiness and it can’t, but it can buy an easier lifestyle. When you don’t have to panic about money or your health, life gets pretty easy. That’s just a little secret between us though. I wouldn’t want anybody else to catch on.
Lesson #7 – There will always be someone smarter, prettier, or more successful than you, but the flip side of that is that there will always be someone dumber, f-uglier, or more loserish than you… unless you’re in jail for murder or rape, in which case, you’re at the bottom of the barrel. You need more than my life’s lessons, dumbass.
Lesson #8 – Show consideration for others. Pleases, thank yous, sorrys, and here, let-me-take-thats pretty much make you better than most. However, don’t ever think you’re better than everyone else, unless you’re comparing yourself to murderers, rapists, or those stupid people that drive 45 in the fast lane. Actually, it’s probably just best that you don’t compare yourself to others, but if you figure out how to not do that, shoot me an email. Twenty years later, I still haven’t grown out of that one!
Lesson #9 – Age is relative. Lots of people spend the first 21 years wanting to be older and the rest of their lives trying not to be. Personally, unless you were a rockstar in high school, things only get better from there. My teen years sucked. My twenties were frustrating but okay. My thirties: they’re pretty damn good. In fact, you reach a point where you can’t even remember how old you are without having to think about it. And most people won’t care or talk about it too much unless of course you’re a tanned piece of leather hunched over, too thin, and coughing up a lung from emphysema or having a mid-life buying-a-convertible-doing-a-21-year-old breakdown. Seriously. Age only matters to the young.
Lesson #10 – Be selective. Work. Think. Play. Help. Vacation. Love. Just don’t settle for less than you deserve on any front even if there’s pressure from all other fronts. Success is a mind-set and you’re only as good as the decisions you make and the belief you have in what you’ve done. Put that on a Hallmark card and call it advice.
20 years ago today, I graduated from Oakland High School in a place I still call home. Today, I can tell you I’m not rich. I’m not famous. I’m not a good dancer, but at the end of the day, I can walk away knowing I pay my bills, I have Siri to answer my questions, and I have a husband who will probably say good things about me at my funeral…probably. Not bad for 20 years.
Got anything to add? Would love to have you add your lessons learned. Hit the comment button.
Got big plans this weekend? Seems like everybody’s got a Mother’s Day celebration or a graduation party or a baby shower to go to this time of year, but this is the time of year that I feel sorry for those suckers who have to give graduation speeches. I know that’s a select few, but humor me.
Let’s take a quick poll. Who remembers a single word of what any speaker said at any one of your graduations?????? Bueller? Bueller? Yeah, that’s what I thought. You ain’t got a clue!
I mean, if you’re in that position, what do you say?
“Hey suckers, you be outta here!” (not exactly valedictorian material)
Or do you go with the tried and true, “Life is not a destiny. It’s a journey…” (I’m not so silently barfing over here!)
There are those who will go with the “We cannot know what lies before us but together we go out into the world to make it a better place because one person can make a difference…” (Yeah, if you’re Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, or Aretha Franklin, but you, Johnny, there in the front row, we just hope you are employed and quit picking your nose…)
Some overachiever types will probably think to quote somebody famous or share lyrics from a song: “Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration according to Thomas Edison” (Yeah, but just make sure your 99% is covered up by some good deodorant because nobody wants a B.O.-smelling genius in the house! And translate that as most of you are going to work 99% of your life so that you can live the 1% of your life that you get time off. Sorry. Just call me a dream killer.)
My personal faves are the ones that start off with, “It wasn’t that long ago that we came together as one in a little room with crayons, Kleenex, nap mats, and Mrs. Insert your kindergarten teacher’s name here with her denim jumper and comfortable shoes.” (Oh yes, that poor woman who had to wipe all our snot, pretend she liked the pictures we drew of rainbows and stick people with heads but no bodies, and probably went home to drink every night to keep her sanity who is now sitting in the audience shocked and amazed that some of you survived to see this day!)
Okay, so I mock the process, but not really. I get it. There’s a whole big world out there that has lots of possibilities for some and even more disappointment for others, and sometimes, it’s pretty damn hard to decipher who’s going to be left standing at the end of the decade. It’s even harder to put into words how some people will work their whole lives and have little to show for it, some will get famous but not be happy, and others will be content in their own little worlds living their own little lives. So what do you say?
Twenty years later, I still don’t know, but please don’t bore us old people. I know you should always say thank you to the people that got you there, and I know you can recount the memories of what makes all your classmates smile and maybe even a few of the people that know you, and I know you should tell people that things won’t always be easy but nothing in life is, and then you quote Billy Madison or break out in a flash mob of I’ve had the Time of my Life or you say “I hope this isn’t us!” and sing a bad rendition of Glory Days or you open up your robe and flash your shirt that says “She’s a Pepper. I’m a Pepper. Wouldn’tcha like to be a Pepper, too?” or maybe it should say “2060 or Bust” or in old-skool Footloose fashion, “2012 kicks A$$!”
Yeah, yeah, I know it’s a serious occasion and all, but really, who the Hell is going to remember one word that was said? Unless, of course, you make them laugh… Because how many stories start off with “Remember when Sheri was talking about life being a journey?” No, they all start off with “Remember when Jerry ___________________. I laughed my ass off at that. I will never forget that as long as I live!”
That, my friends, is how it should be done in the world according to Bolton…
(P.S. – best of luck to my friend giving that speech this weekend…)
Do you ever reach the point where you’re so overwhelmed that you look around your desk, the room, or your office and think “holy shit, there’s no way in hell I am ever going to get this back on track!”? Yes, that’s where I stand. I know they spread all that crap about you have to start somewhere and if you just pick one thing and get started on it, it will all get done. Well, damn it! They obviously haven’t seen my list or yours! (I kinda have to figure that you have a list, too, and that’s the exact reason why you’re reading me – to avoid doing the list!)
Do you just get all jittery thinking about it, but not actually leap into action? Yeah, it happens to me, too. Do you end up sitting there berating yourself for not getting to the list only to be interrupted by the devil on your shoulder saying,
“Hey, dumbass, it’s Friday night. You’re entitled to a life!”
To which that damn angel on the other shoulder says,
“Well, less than brilliant-posterior, if you hadn’t left it till May, maybe you wouldn’t be having this problem!”
Of course, that Satan, he’s always one to argue,
“Well, dumbass, you and I both know that you haven’t exactly been doing nothing for the last couple of months. If people wouldn’t expect shit from us, all of it would have been done a long time ago. They just need to back off. Have a drink. Have a few. Have a nap and a movie, too. I think there’s even some left-over cake in the kitchen.”
And that’s where things get out of control. How can your angelic side possibly win-out over that???
But if it makes you feel any better, I have a million emails that are unanswered, dishes in the sink, a laundry landfill in my basement, writing deadlines looming, and a bad case of the umbrella drinks. (Read as: She starts walking to the refrigerator…)
Guess we know how this story ends…
On a side note, thanks to Mel Walsh Jones, (check out her site here: http://melwalshjones.wordpress.com/2012/05/03/logical-fallacies-the-mac-the-air-and-a-long-hot-day/) I have been nominated for the Liebster Blog Award!
The Liebster is a pay-it-forward kind of award, meaning that once you receive the award, you pass it on to others which I will be doing ASAP
Red Solo Cup - I'll fill you up...with May Day goodies...
It’s like Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin except it’s me and a little day we call May Day but completely the same otherwise… (ha ha) Every year, I beg, plead, and encourage all of you to participate in a day meant to mark summer being on the way and people dancing around a May Pole in celebration. Needless to say, nobody wants to see me dance, and there’s a certain stigma involved when a pole is part of the deal, but I prefer to focus on baskets.
Come on, people, help a girl out. I’m giving you a few days notice so you can be prepped and ready to do it up right. On May 1st, I want you to commemorate May Day with me. Sure, you’re busy and you have laundry, children’s sports, and work, but this is your moment to go back in time. Make it vintage 70’s, small town, know-your-neighbor fun.
Listen, it’s perfect for the family. You fill up your red solo cup and you let the kids put popcorn and M&Ms in theirs. Wha-la! May baskets. And what kid isn’t going to love sneaking up to somebody’s door, dropping off a gift, and making a break for it? And drunk college kids? Are you kidding me? Think how much fun it would be to be drunk and ding, dong, ditching? And that’s exercise right there, friends. We’re solving the obesity problem right here, people!
If you don’t want to do Dixie cups, they have printable cardstock origami baskets on the internet. Print ‘em off and load ‘em up with gum or kool-aid or porn if you don’t want to give candy. Although let me just say, it’s a rare person that won’t take chocolate from a neighbor. Then again, if you don’t have to be PG, why not sneak the elderly lady down the street a wine cooler? You know she’s too embarrassed to buy ‘em at the grocery store but she loves a good buzz as much as the rest of us.
Of course, I know some of you are thinking even after listening to me that there just isn’t time in the day, but I’m not asking for miracles. Feel free to use flowers out of your flower bed. Think frugalista (or frugalist?? for a guy?). Heck, you can even make construction paper flowers. Channel that inner elementary art learning from way back when! I’m completely okay with that, too! I’ll be completely satisfied if you have your kid write “Happy May Day!” on paper and hold it up so you can take a picture of him/her to text to family and friends. I’m not asking much. Just a little acknowledgement of the day.
Personally, I will be making some banana bread for one of our elderly neighbors. Not a clue in the world what his name is but we always chat when he’s out on his morning walk, and I’d love to surprise him with a little treat. It was that or some lilacs in a wine bottle but nothing says manly like flowers so I opted for baked goods. Of course, he will not be the sole winner. I will be making my rounds, as well. Call me sappy but one of my favorite memories was of a much younger version of my hubs having his mom drive him out to put a May basket on my porch. Yes, I’m sentimental, but if you tell anybody I’ll hunt you down and make you scoop crap at the farm with me! And don’t think I won’t do it!
Do whatever you want, but at the very least, put a Happy May Day out there on your facebook page. It’s free and it brings happiness. Two words we all love! Now, get movin’. You have work to do. Make the world aware, people! (And don’t feel you need to drop off Reese’s or Mountain Dew at my house. I’ve got it covered!) Happy May Day, y’all!
living on decoupaged to my bathroom wall - no lie!
Sing it with me: Bandstand… (now do some jazz hands and go an octave lower) Bandstand…
Listen, we all know I usually try to stay on the lighter side of topics as I still tried to do here, but I would be remiss to not celebrate the life of Mr. Dick Clark. There are a few people in this world of pop culture that influenced my life in ways I can’t begin to speak of and Dick Clark ranks up there with Aaron Spelling and Judy Blume. Yes, people, Dick Clark Productions brought us an After School Special! Remember those? He brought us the CMAs, the AMAs, So You Think You Can Dance, the Daytime Emmys, American Dreams, Bloopers & Practical Jokes, the Golden Globes, the freaking Weird Al Show, Donnie & Marie (I’m still a little bit country and a lil bit rock-n-roll), and don’t even tell me you didn’t rock in your New Year Eve’s with Dick Clark!
The man was a legend, not just because he was Dick Clark, but because he never got old! He didn’t even age! (Okay, so the stroke didn’t do him justice, but I am officially blocking the last 5 years out of my memory so I can remember him as he deserves to be remembered.) He went from being a hip cat to a fly dude to a cool sumbitch! He was never out of style. He actually transformed from black and white to color. When Bandstand started out it was black and white and finished live in color with the likes of the Beatles, Madonna, and even Run DMC. He lived from 45s to Ipods. That, my friends, gets a 98 on a scale from 35 to 98. And it’s not as easy as it seems… I tried my hand:
Nicki Minaj – Pink Friday: It’s got a good beat but I can’t dance to it (of course, that’s because I’m a white girl with no rhythm, but that’s neither here nor there)
Taylor Swift 2012 album release: It’s got good lyrics so who gives a shit if I can’t dance to it?
Want your chance? Okay, rate it: Bieber – Believe…
I can only imagine what you must be saying right now!
Okay, so maybe you don’t have quite the appreciation I do because you were too young to watch American Bandstand like I did. Maybe you never wished you could dance like the crazy-outfitted teenagers that showed up each week. Who didn’t want to be that skilled and that cool that Dick Clark included them?
Here’s the thing though. Dick Clark taught me Password and even Joey on Friends tried his hand at $25,000 Pyramid. (No disrespect intended, just my humorous version.) Come on. Here’s your chance:
“It isn’t my fault I’m broke and homeless.”
“I lost my virginity when I was 13. Lizzy was supposed to watch me but she went out to get high.”
“Live with me? Hell, no, I’m putting you in a home!”
Yes, you guessed it! Things you should never say to your parents! Okay, you talked me into it. One more:
“Dumb.”
“Jack.”
“Piece’O.”
“Chicken.”
“Dip.”
“Bull.”
Too easy, wasn’t it? Yes, the category was Prefixes to Shit. Well done! See, tell me you didn’t just have fun. And who do we have to thank? That’s right…Mr. Dick Clark.
Okay, so I may have poked a little fun along the way, but Dick Clark will forever be a class act in my mind. On a record-rating scale, he was record setting. He made it so I could dance to it – in front of the TV, in my car, or on my run at the track. He smiled big. He made millions. He gave generations the best he had, and I, personally, benefitted from that. If you’re reading this, I have to guess you did, too. And I promise I won’t tell anybody if you have a little American Bandstand dance-off in your kitchen tonight. I can pretty much bet there will be one in mine, ending in a final salute. So, for now, Dick Clark, so long…
May the Lord be your Shepherd…
thanks cornpalace.com for red green
Dear American Males (and Females who come into contact with said males),
WTH? I’ll say it whether anybody else has the guts to, or not! It’s time to man up, America! Where have all the beer-drinking, old college t-shirted, Levi’s wearing, sports-talking, regular guys gone? Did Y2K get all of you while everyone was focused on their computers possibly crashing? Okay, there’s still a few around, but they should not be the minority!
Why is no one discussing the epidemic we have on our hands? A crisis has been brewing over the last couple of years and there appears to be no immediate cure. People, men are wearing scarves! And I’m not talking 45-degree-below-zero fleece or wool scarves. I mean dainty, girly, tie-in-a-side-knot, fringe-hanging, fem fatale scarves! An ascot by any other name is still a scarf! Horror of horrors!
The sad reality is that it doesn’t stop at scarves! If you see a scarf, you don’t have to look too far down to find skinny jeans and breakdancing loafers ala 1985. First off, no man should have ankles the size of a Smucker’s lid. Secondly, they’re like human versions of poodles with fluff at their neck and weakling little legs that could snap like a guitar string. Bolton log rule #324: No boy calves should be smaller than his girl’s calves. Third, when the line-up includes Prince and Michael Jackson and they don’t stand out in the group as fem, Houston, we have a problem! Finally, if it were just skinny jeans and scarves it would be one thing, but it’s actually more atrocious than that!
With summer approaching, we are entering the depths of man capris, or as my husband would refer to them: non-kahona coolots. That ain’t right, people! Nor are the tube socks they wear pulled up to their thighs like Vivian Ward hooker boots. I worry it won’t be long till we’re back to ancient time knickers, and I cannot fathom white tights and wigs on a man I’m kissing much less standing behind in line at Starbucks. I guarantee you I’m taking a pic on my cell phone and texting you a note asking if you’d like me to hook you up with George Washington!
And don’t even get me started on the primping! There are teenage boys with more product than my sum total after 38 years of life! They’ve had more highlights by age 18 than the reels at ESPN. To be honest, I’m half scared ESPN will go the way of Cop Rock if this trend keeps up. There’s hair product. There’s spray tans and moisturizers. There’s eyeliner. No lie… There’s more black paint on some twenty-something guys than on a graffiti bridge in Latin King territory. Oh, and don’t forget the damn nail polish that matches the make-up. Seriously?
I am just completely baffled.
Red Green used to always say if the women don’t find you handsome, they should at least find you handy. Ain’t no chance of that now! They might break a freaking nail! Plus, we couldn’t possibly find them handsome. We’re more likely to find them “pretty!” Perhaps I am one of the few, but I would much rather have ruggedly stocky builds than Bieber-fied chicken legs. Quite frankly, it just creeps me out. I look around and there’s piercings as far as the eye can see. When a guy’s sporting more bling than the QVC channel, I have to wonder what he’s hiding. Of course, his package-hugging pants leave nothing to my imagination so I can deduce he’s not muling any socks, but still…
At the end of the day, I am all for wearing pink and supporting a cause. Metrosexual is completely welcome. I even get a little touch-up when you’re a soap star on camera, but if Ellen looks butch alongside the guy next to you, then I beg of you to step up and help me save mankind.
Crank up the stereo. Belch the alphabet and say it with me, “Man up, America!”
I don’t know about you, but I want manly men back. I want guys that open doors for women, eat beef jerky after they just pissed on the side of the road, and own their token pair of tennis shoes that they wear to every event except weddings and funerals. I want a man that would rather goose you than sip Grey Goose from a martini glass. I want a man who checks the oil in his car more often than his appearance in the rearview mirror. Forget manscaping. It’s time to go back to landscaping. I’m looking for more John Waynes and less Spencer Pratts!
Are you tired of wussies, pansies, and girly boys? Then leave the thin manskin pants on the racks! Hang the Hermes silk back on the divas, not the drama dawgs! Pull up those man panties! Help make manly men prosper again!
This is a full-scale SOS. Reach out to others. Spread the word! I call on you to take our country back to the days of men being men and shaking off sprained ankles and awkwardly hugging their mothers. Man up, America!
P.S. – I’m doing this writing platform challenge where I am supposed to call you into action and ask you to share my cause. If you feel so inclined to hit the share button on my blog, I would feel so inclined to love you even more. Thanks!
