A week ago, I was walking to Chrysanthemum’s house for our morning constitutional, and I waved to another friend driving by in her pristine black minivan. She is the kind of lady (Barbie) who I would normally not bother to make friends with because she is too-perfect looking (I am a reverse-appearance snob), but I met her at church lady aerobics, and she’s funny and interesting.
I looked down at myself after waving to her. I was all dressed up for my morning walk, yoga pants stretched over my pregnant bum (yes, I get a pregnant bum) and my old red fleece sweatshirt that was a hand-me-down from Mimi’s husband ten years and nine moves ago. It has holes in it from flying ashes while camping, but it is still my favorite sweatshirt.
The pockets on both sides were weighed down below the hem, sticking out, bouncing on my legs, with a small water bottle and an apple. I had my ugly beanie and funny old-lady mittens on. My face was not as clear as my pregnancy skin often is. Oh, and I was wearing my (again favorite) prescription sunglasses, also ten years old, that are quite unfashionably-shaped, but they are polarized so they give everything a soft rose tint.
And I thought, I can’t wait until I’m 50 and I can wear whatever I want, and do whatever I want, and no one will think anything of the eccentric old lady down the street. (Apologies to my young 50-year old readers.)
Then I realized two things: I already do wear and do what ever I want (obviously, mostly).
And: I am becoming my mother. (hurray!)
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This post started out as a much-too-long comment on Charlotte’s blog.
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There is a poem that my mom loves that says just what you are saying. You can read it here http://labyrinth_3.tripod.com/page59.html (sorry, I don’t know how to post links in comments except this way).
One of the benefits of age!
I can picture you know and I love what I see! If anyone can pull of yoga pants, an old red sweatshirt and funky polarized sunglasses (plus a beanie, no less) while preggo, it’s you. Barbies in black minivans are highly overrated.
My mother always quoted that poem. One time when we were browsing in a tourist town full of boutiques and antique shops, I came across a framed copy of it. I bought it for my mother and presented it to her on her birthday with a pair of vividly purple pajamas. Then a short time later I discovered that the poem had inspired The Red Hat Society [www.redhatsociety.com] with nation or world-wide membership, an annual conventions, and all kinds of red and purple merchandise for devotees.
i have to wait until I’m 50 to be able to wear/do whatever I want? I thought early thirties validated that behavior!!
And I’m sure you looked great in your yoga pants!
I’m sure you looked like a fashion model (seriously, have you seen what they’re wearing on the catwalk?- WARNING- not for young eyes).
I am the same way. I wear what I want to wear. And sometimes it is my favorite holey cleaning shirt and sweat pants that made the neighbor point out I was expecting again (which I’m NOT).
LOL, there is NOTHING I love more than people who can just be themselves without worry of what others think! And honey, you are gorgeous no matter what you’re wearing! Seriously!