I started feeling older a few years ago. My sister, whom always looked up to my fashion sense, began saying that I was “losing it.” Granted, I became a wife and a mom (and moved to Douglas County) while she was a young-blossom in college – yes, we were going to dress differently.
But this week I actually felt old. I went into Roseburg’s new Rue21 clothing store. Unless I can pay a teenager to shop for me in the future, I most likely won’t go back.
It was like some Douglas County version of the movie "Clueless" with girls cruising around, moms and their bank cards behind them, boys drooling and way too much “Oh, that is SO cute!”
I obviously was the one that was clueless. While this shopping trip was making me remember the days of cheerleading, boy chasing and working retail, I looked down at my preggo belly, wedding ring and hot maternity jeans and thought, “Maybe I am a little old for this.”
You know it is bad when in your head you begin coming up with lies in case you are bombarded by a sales associate. “I’ll tell them I’m shopping for my niece’s birthday,” I think.
I scooted out of there as fast as I could. I was the only SUV in the parking lot with a sticker that says “Family Church” and a family in Mickey Mouse ears.
I then headed to a restaurant to meet my fellow mom and wives club for dinner. The lingering cheap teenager perfume began to rub off with the smell of grown-ups. Showered or not, baby spit up, mom jeans and conversations of husbands, toddler tantrums and weight – nothing could be more comforting.
I enjoy fashion but not enough to own the same floral-printed leggings as the high school girl next door. I remember those moms when I was in high school – the ones that still shopped in the junior department (and shouldn’t have); the ones that borrowed their daughter’s skinny jeans and halter tops to go to Costco.
I do not want to be that mom, but I also don’t want to live in frump-world either.
My mom pulled it off well. She knew how to rock an ankle length Winnie-the-Pooh dress during the day, then a flattering black one for date night. All with her signature frosty pink lipstick.
There is a balance, and I realized that I don’t have to feel like I am still fighting to keep my high school Ms. En Vogue title. I am not in high school and don’t belong to that fashion world. Thankfully, God gave us moms our own fashion world: stretch-jeans and Spanx.
I’m good with that.
I enjoy fashion but not enough to own the same floral-printed leggings as the high school girl next door.