I Feel for my Mother

I feel for my mother. She desperately wanted a girl. She got me instead.  Not to say I’m not feminine; I wear skirts, I wore makeup, I procreated. But I suspect I wasn’t the kind of girl she really wanted.

She wanted this girl:

Not Me

She got this one instead:

Me – nose ring and all

During high school, I remember her asking me why I didn’t want to be a cheerleader; why didn’t I want to wear Guess jeans instead of black skirts from Goodwill? Why didn’t I wear ‘nice make-up’? Why didn’t I wear lipstick? Why didn’t I paint my nails? How did I expect to get a husband with tattoos and a nose ring? Why? Why? Why?

I don’t know. But I did manage to snag a husband who hates cheerleading, makeup, designer clothing, painted nails and girly shoes.

However, I think I’m missing some basic “girl” genetics. I hate most clothes and most clothing accessories.  My wardrobe is… well, let’s say I’m always ready for a funeral.  I’ve started wearing more ‘color’ as I’ve gotten older – I like dark green a lot.  As a consequence of my clothing choices, I can no longer really ‘match colors’ – everything goes with black, right? Damn straight it does.  Black goes best with black.

I envision my grandson one day thrift shopping with his friend, pulling out a Cramps tee and remarking with slight horror: Ewww – this is something my grandmother would wear! 

The Granma Tee-Shirt in 2040

(Yes, I own that tee shirt in real life and yes, it’s yellow, but it’s a Cramps tee-shirt so it’s acceptable)

Ok my kid is only 9 and not even close to fathering a child – but I have worried that I’m going to wake up one day and desire a pantsuit.  I desperately hope not. I plan on keeping a robust amount of tee shirts in my wardrobe well into my 80s. And they’re probably gonna be an xxxxxxx-large because one of my only goals in life is to start eating at least 1 cannoli per day when I reach my 70s.  But that’s another story.

I don’t wear jewelry except for whatever can stay on my body. And it has to be silver.  I have sported the same earrings since I was 18. I had about 7 in my left ear at one time (it was really excellent to have a friend that owned a piercing gun). I have 2 remaining.  I own two nose rings. One small hoop and one baby stud for job interviews.   I own six rings – I wear five of them.  Oh and a silver anklet.  I had two but now I have one.  My family has stopped buying me jewelry long ago. GET ME BOOKS!  I like books- a lot.

I hate shoes.  I love big black Olive Oil clunky boots.  Olive liked brown; but I’m more of a black boot gal.

Sexiest Legs EVER

I hardly wear shoes if I can help it. It would drive my Grandmother crazy when she was alive. She was a shoe FIEND. She had hundreds of pairs of shoes, each with a matching purse – and not one pair fit right.  Not one. She had this crazy philosophy that a ‘lady’ doesn’t wear a shoe size bigger than a 7 ½.  As an 8 ½, there was not much I could do to defend myself. Logical arguments weren’t an option with Nanny at times.  She wore a size 6 and didn’t understand. She also thought I should wear a girdle and iron my father’s boxer shorts; I love Nanny, but we didn’t see eye-to-eye on some basic issues.

I’m also not fond of belts or purses.  I love medieval dresses and cloaks.  I’m not completely strange.  The only accessory item I LOVE is tights- not thick white ones however.  And most assuredly, NOT pantyhose – those are obscene. I think it’s insane to wear pantyhose to ‘pretend’ that one’s legs are perfect.  I’d much rather have a lovely pair of black/white stripped tights.  Tights look awesome with big black boots.

I’m also against dying my hair a ‘reasonable’ color. I’m not kidding anyone today that knew me yesterday with gray hairs.  I love to color my hair any variety of colors ranging from David Bowie Red to Roy Orbison Black.

“The Natural Looks”

When my brother-in-law was at barbering school, I asked him to dye my hair David Bowie Red, however, something went awry and I ended up with Neon Cantaloupe. I realized something was going horribly wrong when my head felt like it was on fire. But the color was pretty interesting. My son was 3 at the time and I think I scared him when he first saw me.

So I’m dying it because I like to – not because I want it to look natural.  I am feverently hoping that my hair gets really white so I can dye it purple and have the dye stay in longer than 3 minutes.

You can probably guess my feelings for going to the maul, er I mean mall. No – I really mean maul.  My mom LOVES going to the maul. She loves to buy stuff and then return it. I can’t figure this one out.  Going to the maul is horrible enough, but to buy things that you suspect you are going to return is like poking yourself in the eye with hot, sharp needles. Then doing it again.

I’m 42 and I still torque my mom with my ‘fashion’ choices.  It wasn’t until I reached my late 20s/early 30s that she finally gave up trying to buy me something ‘cute’ for Christmas. Now she knows – get me a black skirt, black sweater or black Doc Martin boots.  And of course get nothing with buttons.

Below is a list of things that I avoid wearing on my person:

• Buttons (gag)
• Extraneous zippers
• Collars
• V-necks
• Pockets on my shirt
• Shirts with sleeves that have some sort of ribbed material on the edges

I know, I know – you’re thinking that I must save a lot of money on all the clothing I’m not buying. But no worries, I have a book & music collection to rival any shoe collection out there.