If I Lick It, It's Mine

I don't think I can really put into words the exhaustion and frenzied whirlwind that the last week has been.  I CAN, however, talk about a single purse, and the shining beacon of hope it was in an otherwise black pit of despair.

Gee, dramatic much?

We got the store prepared for our new season after long hours of espresso consumption, and found we had a day off in the middle of the mayhem.  So, going with the lunacy we already had coursing through our veins, we decided that the best way to spend that time off would be to all go shopping together.  The four of us headed to the big city, and proceeded to nearly fall over in sticker shock as we were reminded how much things really cost in comparison to the store we just completely recreated back at home.  The day was filled with craziness, which could have been the total exhaustion we were all feeling, or getting all four of us in the confines of a car.  Much shopping was done, as we gleefully hit clearance racks, and we managed, somehow, not to get booted from any stores for our antics.

In the mayhem of restocking the store, I had been in charge of organizing the purses, and once again, mourned my inability to find the perfect brown leather purse.  This has been an ongoing saga in my life for the last couple years.  I had started spending a little more money on my purses, thinking that would keep my purse acquisitions down to a minimum, but the perfect brown purse was eluding me.  I had a black one that I loved, a summer purse with some pink on it, and then a small handful of "so so" purses I had picked up cheap in order to avoid thinking about the now legendary brown leather purse I didn't yet own.

As we were shopping, I made sure to check out purses wherever we went.  I didn't have too much to pick from, as most places we were frequenting had faux poly nightmares that did not even begin to touch that brown leather purse itch.

By the time we got to TJMaxx, I was determined.  Out of all the stores we had been in, surely the glorious TJMaxx would be able to supply me with the dream purse.  As the others made their way into the store, I hit a beeline straight for the purses and started perusing.  Contrary to how I normally shop, I avoided looking at brands or price tags and merely just viewed the purses for anything that caught my eye.  About halfway in to my viewings, the smell of leather hit my brain.  I began sniffing the air, wondering which of these beauties could be delighting me with their aroma.  And then...THERE...like a glorious little star in the sky, I see this perfectly shaped purse.  I grab it quickly, hoping no one has spotted it's beauty but me.  Yes, I nod to myself, it has the perfect handles, with options for both arm carrying and a shoulder strap.  I gaze inside, seeing inside pockets, feel the leather and nearly faint at the softness.  Now the ultimate test of purse selection...I bring it to my nose and sniff.  Ooooooooooh.  Yes, it's is leather.  I caress it across my cheek and sigh in contentment.  This is it.  I have found THE brown leather purse.  In my excitement, the little pieces of shiny hardware and logos all over the lining have escaped me, and I stupidly begin to the think I may be owning this purse.  I grab the tag, expecting a 70-80$ tag and SHRIEK when I see $229.  I exclaim out loud "what the fuck is this????" and then see the brand.  It's a Michael Kors purse.  REALLY?  Out of ALL the numerous purses in TJMaxx, I manage to fall head over heels for the most expensive one???  And aren't all their MK purses normally covered in logos so it's easy to skip over them?

Whyyyyyyyyyy?  I begin to wail, doing a pretty damn good imitation of Nancy Kerrigan on the floor, clutching the purse to my chest and rocking back and forth.  The tears flow freely, but of course, not ON the glorious, perfect purse.  Oh no, there's still a rational part of my brain that protects my precious.

I move on, grumbling.  Now, my TJMaxx experience is not as glorious as it could be.  I'm downtrodden, shuffling through the store with my head hung low.  Could be that my feet were hurting by this time from too many hours on my feet once again, but no, I believe it was the homeless purse tugging at my heartstrings.

I meet up with my comrades and tell them all about THE purse.  It's not just a pretty purse.  It is THE purse.  I feel it in my bones.  All other brown leather purses will now be compared to this one.

Fortunately, by the time I'm home, I'm too exhausted to do more than describe THE purse to my daughter, and then go to bed and pass out.

The next morning, I decide to take a chance and see if THE purse is on eBay.  And, lo and behold, like a sign from gods, it shows up as the 5th listing.  I nearly piss myself in excitement when I see the $130 price tag.  I do a mental dance of "should I-shouldn't I" until I see the flashing red numbers counting down.  30...29...28...27...  The auction is ENDING!  My fingers fumble, trying to get signed in and once again, am left forever scarred over not having THE purse.  Now I at least have the style name of the purse, and start doing searches all over the internet looking for it.  Nope, nada.  The remaining ones listed on eBay are going for nearly $300.  Every other store I find is saying "out of stock".

I have to get back to work, and the purse is never far from my mind.  As I put the final touches on displays and take a look around the store before we let the lineup of people in, I am again reminded that not a single one of the 200 purses I have seen in there are even coming close to the THE purse.  I am able to push back the despair once again as I get sucked into the whirlwind that is also known as one of our reopening events.

That evening, my head is filled with THE purse.  No, really, it is.  Even sinking into bed in total exhaustion, and the only dreams I remember are dreams of THE purse.  Dreams that were filled with other people buying it in front of me while I stood helplessly by.

This is becoming insane.  As if it already wasn't.

Friday morning, and I text my husband that the purse has now invaded my dreams.  He keeps telling me to buy it.  I keep thinking how insanely expensive it is.  I search eBay again, only to have even higher prices slapping me across the face.  I google TJMaxx and see the closing time of 10PM, and briefly consider going there after work.  But I'm already bone tired, and the work day has not even begun.  I ask my friends online what they think, and get a chorus of "go for it", including a meme saying "if I lick it, it's mine".  I briefly recall salivating over the purse while I had my head stuck inside it, and then rationalize, YES, it IS mine.

The sick feeling begins to form in the pit of my stomach.  It's TJMaxx.  I was there Wednesday.  It's now Friday.  I can't even think about driving there until the end of the work day at 5:00.  Will it be there?  It was the only one, and being a TJMaxx pro, I know things disappear from there quickly.

Fortunately, the day goes by in a blur.  A blur of complete insanity, where it's so busy, I forget to pee.  I forget my own name.  I almost forget the purse.  As 5:00 nears, in walks one of our clients, who has a truckload parked out front.  I'm already beyond exhausted, but we get her unloaded, she looks at the time, and says "I've got more, I'm running home and will be right back".  Meanwhile, her stuff is scattered all over the store.  I start putting stuff away in bins, she shows up with the next load, piles get higher, we feel the hysteria setting in.  I look at the clock, see it's 5:00, and know that the dreams of hopping over to TJMaxx 40 miles away are going to have to wait.  I continue packing her items away in our storage bins, come across some purses, smell the leather wafting up from the pile, and yes, right there, is a Michael Kors purse and wallet.  It's far too small for my needs, and it's black, not brown, but it's like yet another reminder of THE purse. 

6:00 rolls around and we all agree that this is just too much...the day has been hellacious, the majority of the mess is put away, to hell with getting anything else done, and FINALLY.  I am out the door.  I hit the road, in a daze, and throw on some loud music to keep myself alert for the drive to TJMaxx.  I see the angry looking clouds, and wonder if THE purse is worth driving through a tornado for.  Why yes, it is.

As I finally pull in to town, "Under Pressure" by Queen comes across the speakers, and the sick pit in my stomach is reminding me that I may be going through all this to find out THE purse is gone and in the hands of someone else.

I try not to limp too much rushing into the store.  Not only are my feet screaming at me from being on them all day, but I had also dropped a large frame across my toes, and I'm fairly sure I may have broken it.  I'm hobbling, and it's an eager hobble, and I can only imagine what it must look like with me shuffling into the purses.

THERE it is is.  Next to other Michael Kors leather purses they must have just put out.  I briefly wonder if I like the others more (they are, in fact, slightly cheaper) and then the angels singing overpowers that thought process and I grab THE purse.  I hug it.  I welcome it home.  I don't even flinch much when I get the total and pay.  I take it to the car, and consider buckling it into the front seat so it stays safe.

I briefly consider that I am truly, totally, insane.  But then I look at IT.  MINE.  Forever.

I sigh in contentment, and say goodbye to purse shopping.  I have three perfect purses.  The purse door is officially closed.

Sing Along: Who Wears Short Shorts?

An article about school dress codes is making the rounds on social media, in which a parent disagrees with the policies, saying   "I have never, ever communicated to my child that her dress was a “distraction” to others or that she bore responsibility if someone reacted in any way—favorably, rudely, distracted, or otherwise—to her body. That schools are passing on this very message to her and other female students—and simultaneously communicating to boys that their learning environment is being compromised by the sight of girls' limbs or cleavage—is unhealthy and unsound at best, illegal at worst."  (see full article HERE)

I had touched on the subject of young women's clothing in a previous post titled "Alone is Not A Dirty Word " but I feel compelled to elaborate on the subject, especially now that warm weather has arrived.  There are so many aspects of this I can touch on, so bear with me while I try to cover everything I'm feeling.

First of all, we are talking about school dress codes.  At the ripe old age of 42, when school is a distant memory, I still remember having a dress code.  It pretty much covered the same dress codes we see so commonly now, with skirt and short lengths and straps, though because of the fashion of that time, there was no need for the policies about baring bellies or sagging pants.  We still could not wear anything with logos advertising violence, alcohol, or drugs, or anything deemed offensive.  It was not a shock to see someone try to push the rules and be asked to go home and change, or turn a tshirt inside out.   Were we protesting?  Maybe mentally, but no one was holding up signs for the world to see.  Were we crying to our parents, and then they were standing up against school policy?  NO.  The administration, made up of ADULTS in our school put these policies in place, and then expected them to be followed.  Just as policies against fighting, bullying, being loud or disruptive, and general codes of conduct were implemented, so was the dress code policy.

Did we attempt to bend the rules?  Of course.  We were TEENAGERS.  Being a teenager was all about pushing our boundaries, expressing ourselves in the confusion of figuring out who we are, and just plain old rebelling.  However, when an adult told us that we were clearly breaking a written rule that we had signed off on at the beginning of the school year, we backed off.  We found our boundary.  The limit had been reached.

This was all part of the valuable lesson of learning to respect authority.  In this day and age, it seems to be encouraged to defy or question authority.  There have been some positives, of course, to rebellious thinking, in which laws are changed, modified, or more freedoms are given.  But where is the fine line in which we teach our kids that just because they WANT it, they can HAVE it?  When do we step up and tell our children that though you may not agree, though you may feel repressed, there ARE rules you must follow? 

This reminds me of my daughter in high school.  Her junior year, she joined the Tom's No Shoes For a Day campaign, to raise awareness for children across the globe who do not own shoes.  Granted, she may have done this as an act of rebellion in school, just to see if she could get away with not wearing shoes.  I saw her read and learn about the movement, she owned a pair of Tom's, so I let her make that decision to not wear shoes that day.  HOWEVER, I reminded her of the school dress code policy, and told her that even if shoes were not specifically stated, it was probably a health and safety issue, so she needed to have the expectation that administration would say something.  I supported her in the campaign, but I also supported the school policy.  So, when administration called to tell us they were giving her the choice to put shoes on or be sent home for the day, I left that choice to her.  I did not ARGUE with administration, and I did not publicly blast the school over the internet. 

What was the lesson for my daughter that day?  There are rules in life.  As adults, we live with them every day.  From traffic rules, criminal laws, financial rules, to employment rules.  And guess what?  There are dress codes in nearly every form of employment you will find.  Dress codes that range from safety, to health, to modesty, to just plain appropriateness.  We may not like them, but we abide by them.  Let me say that again...WE MAY NOT LIKE THEM, BUT WE ABIDE BY THEM.  Why would we teach our children any different?

On another point, whenever posts regarding dress code or manner of dress appear, you hear so many people saying that the focus seems to be on females and not males.  Actually, yes, I will agree with this.  However, I don't believe that focus is for the reason so many seem to think it is.  I've seen people throw out accusations that it's because we sexualize women, or it propagates a rape culture.  I think it is far simpler than that.  We focus on women's manner of dress because it's widely more available for women to bare their bodies in fashion.  If men were commonly walking around in shorts cut off at their upper thigh, or wearing shirts that revealed a large portion of their chest, of course the focus would be on them as well.  Are there not arguments out there to insist that young men pull up their pants and not bare their underwear while attending school?  And while we're talking about young men "baring", how many meme's, photos, and jokes circulated the internet during the Olympics with pictures of male athletes in their swimwear or ski gear?

What this boils down to is we are visual creatures.  Not just men, but women too.  Humans are visual.  Short of losing your eyesight, we seek and find what pleasures us.  Advertisers know this.  Pinterest absolutely knows this, or there would not be thousands of boards dedicated to pictures of what any one individual may find beautiful.  On the flip side of this, it is absolutely human nature to have a reaction of disgust, embarrassment, or shock when viewing something our brain interprets as negative.  And for so many people, viewing young women baring their bodies will evoke a negative response.  Not because they are ashamed of the human body, but because they actually sense the desperation for attention based on the visual a person puts out. 

Without completely repeating my previous post on this subject, I wonder what IS a young woman thinking when she puts on a short that bares as much as some underwear would?  Why did she choose that short, instead of one 3, 4, or 6 inches longer?  What is she thinking when she puts on the tight camisole that clearly shows her bra?  Why that cami and not the one with a looser fit and no deep v-neck?  Why the strapless dress that will result in the "3 minute yank" or the bodycon skirt designed for young 20 somethings that fits tighter than wrapping yourself in Saran Wrap?  Whether the intention is there or not, it reeks of desperation for attention.  Attention on looks, and attention on body. 

As I have previously blogged, "Obviously, it starts at a young age, when girls aren't even sure why they want to feel pretty, but they understand they get more attention if they do.  Just take a moment and look at some (thankfully not all) of the youth clothing lines.  Designs copy the "older girls" with more fitted styles, lower waistbands, thinner fabrics.   Some teen stores, that previously only carried juniors/teen sizing, are now marketing to the younger girls with smaller and smaller sizing, offering youth fits for the same clothing girls twice their age are wearing.   But exactly what KIND of attention does this encourage?  As they move into older styles, finding themselves to finally be able to wear the juniors clothing they've been eyeing every time they walk through a mall, exactly what message are they sending?  Hemlines become shorter, straps on shirts and dresses disappear, heels become higher, and they start delving into the world of the "sexy look".


I'd LOVE to blame the manufacturers, but I can't.  Manufacturers design and market according to demand.  If all you see in every store is body-baring clothing for women, it is because there is a demand.  If the consumer does not buy it, it will disappear. 

And yes, it may be everywhere you look, but so is alot of other clothing.  We're not talking a website designed specifically for fashion modeled after Little House On The Prairie either.  Some of the most popular mainstream stores for teens and pre-teens have plenty of options that would fit any dress code, and not create such a frenzy in social media.  Just a quick glance at Buckle.com, one of our most popular teen stores in our area, and I see plenty that would get you sent home from school, but an equal amount that would be just fine. 

Just an example of the dozens of options in skirt lengths.

These aren't even the longest shorts they offer.

There are plenty of shorts within the fingertip range, in all the brands the teens seem to want so badly.  Even their dresses offer plenty of options at the fingertip or knee length, or the ever so popular maxi skirt and dress.  So, exactly, what are parents fighting for? 

Does it not seem odd that parents are shouting from the rooftops that our young girls should be able to bare as much skin as they like?  That we should change human nature, and how the brain works, because we've become a society that encourages sexualization?  Well hello, mom and dads, just WHO is encouraging it?

YES, your child DOES bear responsibility in the reactions of others.  Because like it or not, we, as visual humans, live in a society where our first judgements are based upon what we see.  It happens when a plate of food arrives at our restaurant table that is arranged in such a way as to make it look the most appetizing.  The advertisements with the beautiful backdrop displaying a product.  The objects in our every day life that illicit a brain response of negative or positive.  Of happy or sad.  Of beauty or ugly.  It is why we teach and read endless articles on dressing for a job interview.  Because, yes, there IS such a thing as first impressions, and YES, like it or not, they matter.

So again, exactly what IS that first impression you want the world to have about your child?

Alone is Not a Dirty Word

After all, we are ALL alone in this world, when you get right down to it.  We may have partners, significant others, family, and friends.  But when it comes down to the very basics of life, we are in this ALONE.  Every action, thought, and decision is yours, and yours alone.  So why, tell me, is so much of life spent on the pursuit of not being alone?  Why do women demean and compromise the core of who they are, just so they can avoid that dreaded word of "alone"?

Where did this thought process that must be purged start?  It's prom season gals!  So of course, in the wanderings of the internet, I see what our young girls are wearing, or wanting to wear for prom.

OH MAH SWEET BABY CHEEZITS.

Plunging necklines, bare backs, cutouts grazing the belly button, dress cuts that don't allow for that infamous pre-prom meal, and slits up to the baby making machine.  What the everloving hell is going through these girls minds?  Well, keep reading, and allow me to give you my take on why Barbie is walking the street corner for a prom date this year.

Someone out there is convincing our girls that it's all about the surface.  I'd love to blame the media, but as a parent myself, I know very well how much control I have over the influence of the media.  Yes, it's shoved down everyone's throats with commercials about improving your looks, to reality shows about finding "the one".  What are we allowing society to teach young women?  I don't think it's as simple as the mass market money making machine of beauty and fashion.  That market has it's place, and can be quite the positive influence in a woman's life.  I know there are those who would scoff at such an idea, but I think the issue goes much, much deeper.

And that issue is....drumroll please....being "alone" is a fate worse than death.

Broad strokes, I know, but think about that a minute. 

Everything, from the makeup, anti-aging products, clothing, fitness, and health industry preys on a woman's desire to find and keep a man.  And how does it prey?  By playing upon the already existent weakness that "alone" is a dirty word.  Whether it's a product to help you look your "best" to keep the man you already have, or it's a reality show based upon lonely women gathering to compete for the attentions of a man that is worth having, it's all about that dreaded dirty word again...alone.

Obviously, it starts at a young age, when girls aren't even sure why they want to feel pretty, but they understand they get more attention if they do.  Just take a moment and look at some (thankfully not all) of the youth clothing lines.  Designs copy the "older girls" with more fitted styles, lower waistbands, thinner fabrics.   Some teen stores, that previously only carried juniors/teen sizing, are now marketing to the younger girls with smaller and smaller sizing, offering youth fits for the same clothing girls twice their age are wearing.   But exactly what KIND of attention does this encourage?  As they move into older styles, finding themselves to finally be able to wear the juniors clothing they've been eyeing every time they walk through a mall, exactly what message are they sending?  Hemlines become shorter, straps on shirts and dresses disappear, heels become higher, and they start delving into the world of the "sexy look".

Looking sexy.  LOOKING.  How warped the term "sexy" has become.  As a more "mature" mind, the definition of sexy is not about clothing.  May I repeat, shouting from the rooftops.  SEXY IS NOT ABOUT HOW YOU LOOK.   Most women of my age and older know this.  Why?  Because we're older.  Yes, I'm actually pulling that one out of my hat.  It's an age thing.  Sexy is a mental state.  A mental state that is for minds that have matured.  If you're 15, and you are using the word "sexy", you actually have no concept of the term.  It's not your fault, it's not a bad thing.  Your brain has not developed enough to actually know the WOMAN you will become at your core.  And the woman you will become has nothing to do with your relationship status, your ability to attract men, your ability to get a prom date and throw on a $400 dress that looks like trash.    Sexy is not about attraction, attention, or whether you sit home alone with your cat on a Saturday night.  It is a mental state that comes from confidence, self awareness, and the pursuit of your own happiness.

Girls, young women, and sadly, some adult women who still haven't found their core, it's time to stop advertising yourself.   As a clothes and makeup whore myself, I can tell you, it's a fine line.  But when you cross it, you know it.  When you put on clothes that make you stand a little straighter, you look in the mirror and feel like you can conquer the day without batting an eye...THAT is being a woman.  Because it's not really the clothes doing it, it's that sparkle in your eyes that says yes, these are my clothes, an extension of who I am inside, and I am POWERFUL.  However, most importantly, when you agonize over what to put on that day, looking for the just the right outfit to catch the attention of whoever obsesses your brain, you are doing yourself a disservice.  Yes, in your youth, that is what will get you that attention you are desperately seeking.  It is short lived attention.  It is surface attention.  Without depth.  Without meaning.  You will be required to compromise more than just the shirt your are wearing in order to keep that attention.  You will sacrifice yourself, your dignity, the CORE of who you are and who you will become.  That attention will feel good, make you think you have accomplished something in life because HEY, YOU ARE NOT ALONE.  But again, alone is not a dirty word.

Alone is beautiful.  It is knowing who you are, what you stand for, loving yourself above all others, and knowing that you may share your world with others, but in the end, no matter what happens, you are ok.  Great in fact, because you have your best friend...yourself...to get you through it.

Know yourself first.  If only I could put that on a billboard in every county of every state.  JUST. KNOW. YOURSELF.  Know that the plunging necklines, short skirts, shorts with barely a leg, are nothing but surface dressing demanding, seeking, and desperately advertising that you are NOT ok to be alone.  There is nothing strong or empowering in baring as much as possible in order to seek the attention of others.  Find yourself first.  Figure out who you are when you are sitting at home alone with your cat on a Saturday night.  The style, beauty, fitness, being sexy as hell follows.  Do it in the right order.  You may still be alone, but when you do it in that order, you realize, it's actually ok.  Alone, is not the dirty word.