Thursday, April 18, 2013
I'm 35. 35 year old mother of 5. I am not in my 20's any longer, nor do I ever wish to return to my 20's (well, I'd love to have my body back, but nothing else!)
I'm having a dilemma with fashion these days. When I glance throughout my day of women in public, I get mixed emotions. I get mad, optimistic, and a bit excited all in a day's timing.
Let me explain my reasons for each emotion.
I'll start with optimistic first: I spot a mid to late 30 year old woman with great fashion sense. Great tailored skinny jeans with a hint of wear in the denim, well put together shoes/handbag/belt, great pop of color with the pastel colored shirt, and hair and makeup done very well as to not give away her exact age.
Optimistic because, just because I'm 35 doesn't mean I can't still be stylish.
Secondly is excited: I replay the particular woman in my mind over and over. She's my age or older. She looks great! I can put those pieces together and look just as good as her. I've got this.
And mad: Well, you know who you are ladies. Miss Me jeans tattered up and down your thighs, embellished butt pockets, don't bend over because the jeans are too tight you'll split, a t-shirt that has some sort of logo on it that's not even recognizable, and way too tight that the "girls", that are obviously fake, are screaming for a breath, and hair and makeup that is just well, put on with a putty knife and ratted and teased a bit too much. All the while, you're 35-40 years old...no longer in your 20's.
Okay, the last explanation was a bit over the top, but...
That's where I come to the hard decision as a woman. How do I find that middle ground where I dress my age, but not feel 80? Well, not go to the mall for starters.
The mall is all about youth. All about being size 0, and it's all about how much you can make yourself up. Don't get me wrong, I like the mall just as much as the next woman, but maybe for different reasons. Yeah, the Coach store. But that's it...I promise! Well maybe Orange Julius too.
So about two weeks ago I walked into a store...the name I will keep to myself. I walked in and spotted these bad boys:
I tried them on and immediately pictured the woman I despise. Needless to say, I bought the pants. I decided to just do it. I'm not over the top, I'm not "that woman", and these pants aren't that bad.
I put the pants on yesterday. I couldn't get out of the doorway of my bedroom before my 12 year old son says, "Where did you get those pants Mom?" I asked him why he's asking.
"Well, just cause it's not your style Mom, it's not something you'd normally wear...they have tears in them."
Okay, brush off his comment. Move on. Get in the car and drive to Lauren's school to volunteer for an hour. Lauren spots me and her eyes get wide!
"Mom, when did you buy those pants?"
Okay, second kid's questioned me in less than 10 minutes.
I quietly walked around her classroom as the 35 year old mom volunteering that I am. Volunteering in a room of 1st graders, I felt as if these kids should be wearing these pants, not me.
My kids are right...this isn't my style. This isn't me. I'm a J.Crew, Banana Republic type of clothes wearer...not Forever 21...yeah, it slipped.
The pants will retire. Maybe if Poison or White Snake decide to come to concert, I'll dust them off and hope they still fit.
Posted by The Hayes Family at 1:29 PM