It has happened

Tonight was supposed to be my fun night.  It started with a hair cut from Courtney, who of course outdoes herself every time, making me look like I have cool hair– and that job is not all that easy.  For all of you following the purple hair saga, no coloring this time.  I don’t dare take that risk again this year.  I will save it up for next fall, right before school photos so my rebellion can be captured forever on the walls of the school. Smile Ah, the thought makes me so happy.

I ventured out into the mall to do my “girl” shopping before Bill and JP met up with me.  The girl shopping was torturous swim suit and bra shopping.   Nothing makes me feel like all the eating right and ellipticalling is paying off like trying on swimsuits.  (Ellipticalling is not a word.) Oh yeah, I saw every body flaw, every wrinkle, every lump, every stripe.  And I love seeing them from every angle – those dressing rooms at Macy’s are delightful, the three way mirrors worked their magic.  I could just hear Stacy and Clinton telling me I was about to be whisked away to New York for my filming of What Not to Wear.   These are 3 of the 10 or so I tried on.  I also tried on a one-piece and whoa, now I remember why I don’t wear them – YUCK on the back fat roll.

Kenneth Cole Reaction Swimsuit, Tiered Halter Tankini Top Caribbean Joe Swimsuit, Floral Tankini Top Kenneth Cole Reaction Swimsuit, Ruffled Skirted Bottom

When the torture session was over, I happily slinked back into my jeans and hoodie and walked out empty handed.  I just cant spend $100 on a suit that has no magical powers or steel planks that promise to lift, nip, and hold.  (Those who know me well will know which top of the three I actually liked, and which bottom did the needed job.)

I found great deals at GAP – hadn’t shopped there for a while since my kids told me they wouldn’t wear GAP anymore, I kinda forgot I still could.  I like their shirts, and today it was as if God was making up for the swimsuit horror – 30% off the sale prices AND B1G1 free.  I got 3 sweaters and a shirt for $33.  Yea me.  Yes, I went right from seeing myself naked in a mirror back to sweaters.  Now I remember why I like fall so much.  Nothing a good pair of jeans and the perfect hoodie can’t camouflage.

Then Bill and JP entered my kingdom and we began the decent into mom hell.  It has happened to me.  The mall used to be my place where once in a while I dragged a cute little kid to “introduce” him or her to the art of shopping.  No longer.  We started at Journey’s where JP and some salesman had a long debate over what color of Con’s to buy.  We settled on gray, although the salesman shared that if he were us, he would get teal as well, because they are so cheap, it is like getting two for the price of one.  Really?  I got one for half price with that logic.  He also tried to upsell us with some jargon about a new brand that is all green and recycled and he needs to know I don’t give a rip about that crap and then he threw out a bunch of famous people who wear that brand – ummmmm, I hadn’t heard of a single one of his people.  I was so impressed.

“Listen up, punk, I have lived in the wonderful world of I don’t have to keep up with pop culture for 13 years, and I like it that way.  I don’t care who wears your tree huggin’ shoes.”  And with that, I turned the purchase over to Bill.  I needed to use the old lady’s room and gather my wits.

Then we ventured down to Pac Sun.  There is where the men were separated from the boys.  After Bill saw the price tag of the first sweatshirt, he ditched us and pulled the ultimate dad move – he sat in a chair in the mall hallway and whipped out his book!!!  He read a book in the mall, people, while I tried my best to maneuver the world of Pac Sun.  Much to my delight, I spied with my little eye the 70% off the clearance price rack back there in the corner.  And I went ape nuts picking out cool clothes for JP.  In fact, I got so into it, I ran my other bags out to deadbeat dad so I had more arm space to load up.

Now people, hang with me.  I had to pay for this stuff.  It was there that I really got a taste of my oldness.  The two girlies checking us out and I had this conversation while JP probably wanted to hide.

Me: “Hey, see this cool sweatshirt with guns all over it – will he be allowed to wear it in school?”

First girlie:  “I don’t know, I went to private school so I have no idea what kids are allowed to wear in public school.”

Me:  Ok, I already know the answer to this question but I just like to embarrass my kid when I can,  “Well, I will just ask the principal if it is approved clothing.”

JP is slinking away at this point, looking at me with disbelief.

Second girlie:  “I am pretty sure you can’t wear these in school.”

Me:  (thinking in my “who do you think you are” mode)  “DUH!”    But what I really said was, “It’s not like he can hurt anyone with the pictures of guns.”

First girlie:  “That’s right.  You tell them it is artwork that you did yourself.”

Me:  “That is a great idea!!  Yes, I hand stitched all the AK-47’s on the sweatshirt, thus, it can be worn to middle school.”

JP has totally removed himself from the conversation.

Me:  (giving up on the “you don’t know how I am messing with you” game)  “So, where did you go to private school?”

First girlie:  “In the cities.”   And then tells us what school.

Second girlie:  “Oh, do you know so-and-so?”  to First girlie.

First girlie:  “What year did he graduate?”

Oh, I feel this about to blow up in my face.  I know I am about to feel VERY old.

Second girlie, “Well, he was older than you are, so maybe ‘09″.”

Feeling myself almost vomit.  I mean, I know I am not young anymore, but holy crap, I am suddenly very aware of my age.

Me: “Holy Crap, I feel old!”  I just came out, I couldn’t stop myself.  I am sure it was at this point that I blew my cover, I know I can pass for 24 anytime, 22 on a good day.

First girlie: “Well, you have a 13-year old son so what do you expect?”

What do I expect?  I expect my butt to look like a rock in size 3 jeans and bikini’s that sell for $14.99 to cover all I need to cover and hold it in place.  I expect that on the rack of sizes XS and S that I will find all I need for an upcoming season.  I expect people to wonder how my son managed to have such an awesome young “nanny” who pays for everything for him.  I expect to walk around the mall in skinny jeans and hoochie heels like all the other “nannies” I saw there tonight without getting an aching back.  These expectations are all completely realistic.  It wasn’t that long ago, people, that this was my reality.

I wanted to cry.  We paid and left the mall.  The mall isn’t my domain anymore.  It belongs to the girlies.  I am only a taxi and bank account for my kids’ usage now.  Holy Moly, this hurts.

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