What Wisdom I’ve Gained…In All the Same Areas My Mother Did…

Mom and Grandma told me that “nothing jiggles” on a lady.  Or at least it shouldn’t.

At that time, the information was of no use to me, as I was 5’2″ and weighed 95 lbs. soaking wet.

I think you’d agree, time keeps slipping into the future.

Today, the opposite is true.  The absence of jiggle is also not any mark of a lady.  The presence of jiggle is not a way of separating the ladies from the women or broads.

I am also no longer 5’2″…

Fashion trended away from “leave a little something to the imagination”.

Fashion, that excellent slave–that terrible master.

Has driven culture to the point that Southern Living Magazine would devote a half page of copy space for a young writer to apologize and explain her reasons for appearing in ankle socks elsewhere in the issue*.  As if they would lose readers, if there were not some sort of editorial responsibility taken when a young woman keeps her toes clean and safe as she learns to fly on the trapeze.

I digress.

Discreet fashion choices that emphasize strengths and downplay weakness is out of the question.  Utility and appropriateness to the event or activity is relative.

Maybe it’s my home training, but I don’t think of the trends as my “right”.  If it shows me for what I am, I figure I don’t need to make my problem yours, and I cover myself. Vanity?  Heck, YEAH!!! But I’m leaving my struggle with chronic pain, depression, and gravy to your imagination.

My point?  Years ago, in an effort to prevent “jiggle” and “leave it to the imagination”, a woman had an arsenal of “FOUNDATIONS”.  The girdle has gone by the wayside.  Unstylish.  Unattractive.  Indicative of some sort of bondage….  Today, a young woman would never admit to wearing a girdle to cheat her way into a garment that is really made for a different body type.  Because they are a thing of the past.

Today, we have “shapers”.  Spanx.

Because those aren’t girdles.

Yes, they are.  Spanx are girdles.  Just say it.  Don’t apologize.

You are wearing Jane Jetson’s girdle.

There you go.  The emperor is now free to put his pants back on and look better in them.


*About 5 years ago, before Lindsey Biermann took over and turned it into Hipster Living. I subscribe and complain every month.  Mickey thinks it’s PMS.



Some Things Money Can’t Buy

Enjoying quality.

Fifteen is a rough time for teaching this.  If it didn’t take hold when they were younger, it’s hard to convince them that White Linen smells better than Calgon Vanilla Musk body spray.

Should you take them shopping for clothes, you’ll find a similar mindset.  We frequent the Junior Consignment Resale Thingy. Ralph Lauren and Bobbie Brooks hanging out; together.

They don’t know the difference.

Obviously, the 8 year-old boy’s wants are simple and quality is a vague and feminine discussion.

But the girls.

I’m beginning to worry.

I’ve found a number of things to be developmental stage and I’m hoping this is yet another we’ll grow through.

But sheesh.

“[Boxed] macaroni and cheese is amazing.”

We’ve discussed this before.

Amazing has a definition.  Macaroni and cheese from a box can’t meet the criteria for amazement.

I’m not saying it’s bad yes, I am; I’m saying you might be looking for another word.

“Revolution is the best show ever.”


We own Downton Abbey.  They love it.

And I agree with dad, the use of the word, “d*ck”, three times in about 10 minutes, is over the top.  It sounds like kids who’ve found a new swear word and are hiding out to say it as many times as they can.

The writing is juvenile and the acting is hilariously bad.  I can imagine the director yelling, “Good enough,” instead of, “That’s a wrap!”

You’ve read and watched Lord of the Rings, for crying out loud.  I realize that it’s a movie and not TV, but it all blows out the same hole.

Maybe that’s why they can’t pick up the subtle shades of quality.

Maybe it’s my fault.  Back in the spring, I picked up a Style Watch magazine.  So the girls could catch up with the styles without the sexual advice, as in Glamour.  Or the gossip, as in People.  Well, I love that they show what wealthy future has-beens are wearing and show how regular-ish people can get it for a fraction of the cost.  I hate that they chose to show Rihanna’s breasts.  Apparently, she went outside with no bra under plain lace.  If I wore that in public, I’d be arrested for indecent exposure. Style Watch asked readers if that was okay.

Thank God I don’t have to raise the good folks at Style Watch, too.

If my 15 year-old had to ask if that’s okay, I’d shoot myself.

I am currently auditioning InStyle and Lucky.  However, I am concerned they won’t have the less expensive versions.  Maybe that would be a good thing, because maybe then they’d have to use their own vision and imagination.

Maybe this is old programming coming home to roost.

When I was their age, Target was the dime store.  It’s where you went for soap and school supplies. I’d have stayed home as go out of my house in a garment purchased there.  I was once ridiculed in class for wearing a sweater that came from Sears.  Later, I caught comments for working at JC Penney.  (Partly, it was the neighborhood I grew up in) I spent my money on gas and clothes.  Literally, picking up my check at Penney’s and getting in my car and driving around the mall to Dillard’s to spend it.

Maybe I was a snob.

I lived my life.  I didn’t idolize morons or hang off bandwagons.

Maybe this is what 15 year-olds are like.  Or what they’re like now.  I was always old.

There seems to be no distinction.  They think box mac and cheese is as good as any food they eat.  They think body spray from the grocery is just as sweet as department store fragrances that have stood the test of time.  They can claim to love Revolution when they’ve had the opportunity to watch… well, quite a lot of high quality programming.

They’re learning.  I took them to the mall and made them go in Abercrombie, Hollister and so forth.  They nearly embarrassed me to death, squawking at prices.  Then I reminded them of garments with these labels I’d purchased from the consignment.  Those things were literally fractions of the price of even one comparable garment.  And you could tell by inspecting them, they were more substantial than the Target imitations.

They got it.  Same money; better clothes, more of them.

Now comes the real challenge.


“You can’t buy taste.”








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