But Mommy isn't one of those, I've known her all these years
In Which the Blogger Tries to Work Out Some Issues, Hoping Not to Sound Like a Total Asshole and Probably Failing, Per the Usual
So I have talked in here already about the suburban moms who populate our little slice of the Silicon Valley, and how they kind of creep me out. It's not the Dallas-Royce-type moms who creep me out -- that, I can sort of understand (what with my issues about mani-pedis and such), and I'm still just as intimidated by them as I was by the really put-together girls in my own high school back in the day (the neurosis that keeps on giving!). No -- it's the Mom moms -- the bitchfaced judgmental Fox "News" demographic, the ones I have trouble believing were ever kids, or teenagers, or young single adults, the ones who look like they were born wearing slacks and blouses and talking about how little Reagan and Cheynee are enjoying the fourth grade at Saint Ballsacktious's Academy for Middle-Intellect White Childrens.
I find myself in these ladies' company quite often these days; as my kid takes up activities like dance class and this crazy-fun tumbling thing at the community center, and of course pickup time at preschool, I am, naturally, where the other moms are. And y'all -- I'm not one of them.
I mean -- yes I am. I have to confront and own the fact that I am a suburban mom -- a female parent whose domicile is in a suburb. I'm not purposely trying to Other these women, or -- wait -- it's been awhile since I was in kollege -- maybe it's myself I'm trying to Other?
Anyway. Point: I show up to the dance studio in shorts and a tank* top, same hair I've had for more than 20 years (long, straight, unbothered by any product except really good shampoo & conditioner and some Pureology smoothing serum), with my kid and my baby, and park it on one of the benches with the other gals while our various offspring do their dance classes. I'm flipping through Sullivan and my political tumblrs (Recall All Republicans, STFU Conservatives, Advocating Progress, etc.), playing peek-a-boo with the tiny guy and/or letting him teethe on my free hand, and there's a knot of them over in one corner, wearing actual shoes, and makeup, and shirts that require ironing (even though it's 93 fucking degrees out, thus my shorts and tank and ponytail, it's not a fucking political statement, ladies) talking amongst themselves, and I swear to you that in response to my cordial howdy smiles, they are constantly giving me the side-eye, like Who is this girl and why is she allowed to be here? This scene is for grown-ups, Missy! And it kind of gives me the blerghs.
What I'm saying is, I am a grown-up, goddammit, I just don't look like the local/default image of one. It's not a hipster thing, I'm not trying to hold on to my long-ago youth. I'm seriously, sincerely, not doing it on purpose, this Grownup Look Fail. It's just what I fucking look like. I haven't worn makeup on the reg since August of 1992 -- because I'm lazy and cheap and besides it's really fun to clean up good on the extremely rare occasions when I do paint my face with stuffs. I wear what I wear because it's comfortable -- it would be cool to be stylish and shit, and wear Outfits, but I'd need a person on staff to lay out my clothes every day and an independent income stream to pay for it all or else I'd revert to wearing the same navy BR cargo shorts and Gap Ts again (laaaaazy, cheeeeap).
I don't know. I'm overthinking it (again) -- and now the word "mom" looks weird to me. Mom. Mom. Mom om omom momooo. Heh. Mom.
-------------------
*BTW, these really are perfect tanks -- they cover bra straps, skim the cleavage, and hold up through endless wearings -- I LOVE them for everyday. I wear two different-colored ones at once, for a little better coverage and some visual interest. How's a J.Jill shout-out for increasing my hipster/riot-grrrl cred, y'all!
So I have talked in here already about the suburban moms who populate our little slice of the Silicon Valley, and how they kind of creep me out. It's not the Dallas-Royce-type moms who creep me out -- that, I can sort of understand (what with my issues about mani-pedis and such), and I'm still just as intimidated by them as I was by the really put-together girls in my own high school back in the day (the neurosis that keeps on giving!). No -- it's the Mom moms -- the bitchfaced judgmental Fox "News" demographic, the ones I have trouble believing were ever kids, or teenagers, or young single adults, the ones who look like they were born wearing slacks and blouses and talking about how little Reagan and Cheynee are enjoying the fourth grade at Saint Ballsacktious's Academy for Middle-Intellect White Childrens.
I find myself in these ladies' company quite often these days; as my kid takes up activities like dance class and this crazy-fun tumbling thing at the community center, and of course pickup time at preschool, I am, naturally, where the other moms are. And y'all -- I'm not one of them.
I mean -- yes I am. I have to confront and own the fact that I am a suburban mom -- a female parent whose domicile is in a suburb. I'm not purposely trying to Other these women, or -- wait -- it's been awhile since I was in kollege -- maybe it's myself I'm trying to Other?
Anyway. Point: I show up to the dance studio in shorts and a tank* top, same hair I've had for more than 20 years (long, straight, unbothered by any product except really good shampoo & conditioner and some Pureology smoothing serum), with my kid and my baby, and park it on one of the benches with the other gals while our various offspring do their dance classes. I'm flipping through Sullivan and my political tumblrs (Recall All Republicans, STFU Conservatives, Advocating Progress, etc.), playing peek-a-boo with the tiny guy and/or letting him teethe on my free hand, and there's a knot of them over in one corner, wearing actual shoes, and makeup, and shirts that require ironing (even though it's 93 fucking degrees out, thus my shorts and tank and ponytail, it's not a fucking political statement, ladies) talking amongst themselves, and I swear to you that in response to my cordial howdy smiles, they are constantly giving me the side-eye, like Who is this girl and why is she allowed to be here? This scene is for grown-ups, Missy! And it kind of gives me the blerghs.
What I'm saying is, I am a grown-up, goddammit, I just don't look like the local/default image of one. It's not a hipster thing, I'm not trying to hold on to my long-ago youth. I'm seriously, sincerely, not doing it on purpose, this Grownup Look Fail. It's just what I fucking look like. I haven't worn makeup on the reg since August of 1992 -- because I'm lazy and cheap and besides it's really fun to clean up good on the extremely rare occasions when I do paint my face with stuffs. I wear what I wear because it's comfortable -- it would be cool to be stylish and shit, and wear Outfits, but I'd need a person on staff to lay out my clothes every day and an independent income stream to pay for it all or else I'd revert to wearing the same navy BR cargo shorts and Gap Ts again (laaaaazy, cheeeeap).
I don't know. I'm overthinking it (again) -- and now the word "mom" looks weird to me. Mom. Mom. Mom om omom momooo. Heh. Mom.
-------------------
*BTW, these really are perfect tanks -- they cover bra straps, skim the cleavage, and hold up through endless wearings -- I LOVE them for everyday. I wear two different-colored ones at once, for a little better coverage and some visual interest. How's a J.Jill shout-out for increasing my hipster/riot-grrrl cred, y'all!
Labels: demoralizing confessions, fuckyeahbeingagrownup, I really am sort of an asshole sometimes, indefensible positions, surprises in the attic, unreasonable and probably ill-founded prejudices
posted by Gleemonex at 11:10 AM
4 Comments:
I thought being a Mom would build this "we're all in this together" type of thing but nope. I'm not working so when I take my kids to MDO a few days a week, it's a crapshoot as to what I have on. But anyone looking at me can tell that I'm not rushing off to a "real" job. And then I wonder if people are looking at me because I look dirty and not put together or because they think all I do is go to the gym for 5 hours and drink coffee (I do neither of these things) and they're jealous or because (insert insecurity #47 here). Don't get me started on approaching a playground and having a table full of women all turn around at the same time to look at you and your children. It's probably a protective reflex but man, it's like grade school flashbacks hardcore!
EXACTLY! omg, Francine ... I swear to Jobu, you and I would be BFFs in real life.
Francine, I feel you.
and obviously Gleemonex.
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