Thursday, September 27, 2007

Slobs Rule

I've been having a blast this morning over at Flickr. Some of my favorit-est people are participating in the Slobs Rule Pool. I have to confess, looking at their pictures I envy their style sense. Where are the stained blouses? The faded shorts? The paint spattered tee shirts? The shoes with the heel flapping half off? Oh, I remember. They are in my closet.

I have a confession to make. My mother gave me a beautiful summer shift with a matching cover up in 1988. The cover up is long gone and the shift is faded and tattered and absolutely the coolest thing I own on hot days. Four years ago, my mother in law saw me wear it to clean the house and she threw it in the trash. Later I sneaked back and I dug my ugly black dress out of the garbage and I'm still wearing it. I live in terror those mean people on "What Not To Wear" are going to come raid my closet and make me model it in front of a three way mirror on national television. But I just can't let it go.

Why you ask, would a flower of femininity such as myself own a drawer full of bras being held together with safety pins and underwear that no self respecting hospital will allow inside their doors in the event of my ever being in an accident? Well, I'll tell you. The conversation usually goes something like this:
"Honey, are you ready to go shopping? Remember you said we'd both go get something decent for autumn since our summer things are worn out."
"OK, let me just check the account before we leave.... (insert swear words here) $700 for electricity?!! (more swear words here) I can't believe how little the insurance paid on that last doctor visit!"...etc. You get the gist.

Maybe someday when the kids are out of here and we sell my beloved brick box, I will become the fashion plate everyone thinks I should be. Until then please hand me some duct tape. I think I just heard something pop and it isn't going to be pretty.