I think Middle School has affected my whole life. I really never wanted to admit that publicly… but I guess I just did… Oh, the joys of blogging…
Let us be very clear about one thing… If you are as unfortunate as to own a pictorial dictionary from 1991, you could look up the word, “nerd”, and my school photograph would appear. I was even going to go as far as to scan and post this photograph, but when I looked for it with my other school pictures, it was missing! Even my 5th grade picture in which I look like Medusa is there, but the one from 7th grade? Nowhere to be found. And I never dispose of a picture, so it must have been as bad as I remember it…
For the sake of argument, let me just describe it…
Mushroom style haircut… huge, black, plastic frame glasses… long gold chain… orange t-shirt to match my orange lipstick (and it wasn’t even the year I accidentally stripped my hair bright orange with something permanent until it grew out)… Need I say more? (Well… yes… just one more thing… If you happen to have that picture, will you please scan it and insert it in a comment… and then burn it…)
At any rate… Middle School wasn’t real kind to me…
I had a good friend in elementary school who, much to my dismay, became quite popular and left me behind. I remember that she came over once when we were in 7th grade… under the condition that I would not tell anyone she came over. On that visit, I flat out asked her why I wasn’t popular (I have never been one to mince words). She said a lot of it had to do with my clothes. That was supposed to be remedied, in part, by the fact that I had made the basketball cheerleading squad (after 5 years of football cheerleading, I was good at it… probably much to the dismay of some other people), and we were required to wear our uniforms to school twice a week. I mean… really? I only had to come up with three decent outfits and I could be living the dream of popularity? Sounds too good to be true… And it was. Those other girls on the squad were so mean I got physically sick. I quit after the first game (I did go on to cheer for football one more year, but the demands of High School cheerleading and the attitudes involved were more than I wanted to deal with, even though I would have loved to continue in the sport, itself).
That conversation about clothing never left my mind, though, and even though I didn’t figure it out until years later; I probably wouldn’t appear on “What Not to Wear” now… Well… I mean… right now? That’s a different story, because quite honestly I’m sitting at my computer in a bright orange t-shirt (how ironic)… uh… with a Jack-O-Lantern on it… and worn out grey sweats… But I really don’t wear these things out in public, except on Halloween… They are my PJs… Please don’t come ring my doorbell…
Normally though… I’m not exactly a diva, but I did learn after my High School graduation that Old Navy is a store, not just a brand (and, yes, I had to ask this in 1997… three years after Old Navy opened), and I traded in my wardrobe for something just a little more “upscale”… at least when I planned to leave the house…
Over the years, I also traded my huge plastic frames for some small, semi-frameless ones (and contacts on occasion), I stopped wearing orange (mostly… and definitely in the lipstick department), and although I never have gotten exceptionally good at hair; I can pull the curls into a decent up-do, spray with glitter, and add a tiara, if my life depends on it… and I know how to use a straightener when I have an extra hour of free time (which basically means never, but there is hope for me in a couple of decades)! I don’t expect that anyone would look at my 7th grade school picture, now, and say, “Wow! You haven’t changed a bit!”… except maybe my brother-in-law, who compared me to Weird Al last summer…
When I started having children, I basically determined that they would be well dressed. The first step was; I banned cute little animals on their clothing from day 1 (much to my mother’s chagrin). It took some time, but once Seth was probably 3, Grace was 2, and Caleb was coming into the world; I had learned to shop off season and at outlet stores and consignment stores for places and brands like the aforementioned Old Navy, Gap Kids, The Children’s Place, and Osh Kosh. Around the house, we still wore a lot of sweats, but when we went out, the kids looked good enough that people would comment on how much I spent on clothes (My goodness… it just never ends, does it? Either your clothes aren’t good enough, or you’re a rich snot…)! I will admit that I have snapped just a little bit with Miah, and I actually paid full price for a dress from Hannah Anderson this past Christmas. I am embarrassed to admit that, because I really do try to be frugal with our clothing budget. Sometimes, though, that materialistic feeling creeps up, and although I usually can avoid it; I clicked “make purchase” before I really thought it through and have spent the past few months making sure Miah wears that dress three times a week so I’ll get my money’s worth. The dress went on sale for 70% off after Christmas. I have kicked myself repeatedly…
My favorite comments, lately, have been on my shoes. Let me just say that since I wear my fit flops, exclusively, 9-10 months out of the year, I don’t think any woman who possesses 30-130 pairs of shoes should question my judgment on how much I paid (and I just might buy another pair this spring… take that!) Further… I got my Sketchers shape-ups as a Christmas gift from my mother-in-law… and why the heck do 4th grade little boys comment on my Sketchers during children’s worship?
Was there a point to this post? Oh yeah… That was all just background information… Here comes the real story…
Grace is nine years old… 4th grade. She recently started cheerleading… for basketball. I am not quite sure why I decided to put myself through this, but I guess it’s because she wanted to do it, and the boys are playing basketball (which is a series of funny stories in and of itself… especially with Caleb who is not very athletic… although he does have the build to be… and who is loving every minute of it, even though he cannot hit the net and runs with the ball…)
Last week, Grace wore her pink athletic clothes to practice. They are very cute. The pants are from Osh Kosh. When we got there, however, every other little girl had a white turtleneck on, and they were all expected to change into their uniforms to film video clips that will run for the whole season. The uniforms are red and grey. Grace had to wear her pink t-shirt under the uniform. I was distressed. Ironically, we have apparently taught Grace not to worry about her appearance (Mommy does that for her) or what other people think (Realistically, she’s freaking beautiful, so what is there to worry about anyway)… I think she noticed that I was sinking into the wall, because she came over to inform me that the pink shirt looked fine with her uniform and that I shouldn’t worry about it. The pink shirt really didn’t look fine, but I want to make it clear that I wasn’t embarrassed about how she looked. On the contrary, I was exceptionally proud of her character and her lack of concern over it. What I was embarrassed about was how this made me feel like a failure of a mom. Seriously, Lisa?
So tonight we were off to practice again. I still can’t find a stinkin’ white turtleneck anywhere, but she wore a white long sleeved shirt under her uniform, and it looked fine. I pulled her hair up into a ponytail and then didn’t pull it through all the way, fluffed it, sprayed the curls, and added a matching ribbon. She was picture perfect… too bad the video shoot was last week, huh? There… great mom, right?
I don’t go to Grace’s practices, because they overlap with Caleb’s, and reason says that you let your responsible nine year old do her thing while you watch you six year old and pray you won’t have to intervene because he has relapsed into tornado mode (so far, so good by the way)…
On our way home, Grace says to me, “Mom, why did you leave part of my hair up?”
And I reply, “Because it was cute that way?”
Then Grace says, “One of the girls asked me what happened to my hair?”
And I say, “Did she say that rudely?”
To which Grace replies, “No.”
And I think, “Yeah… right…” But I do not say this…
And then I got quiet… and reflective… and I started to look like that gangly seventh grader again… at least on the inside…
After a few minutes pass, Grace says, “I just thought I should tell you. Maybe you should just make a regular ponytail next time”
And I think for just a moment and then put my happy Mommy voice into action and reply, “It’s OK. Just remind me not to do it that way again.”
And Grace is happy…
And if Grace is happy, then I’m happy…
But it’s kind of a process for me to work through…
Am I going to regret what this cheerleading thing does to my daughter? I don’t think I will if it just comes down to questions like, “How much hair do we pull through the ponytail holder”… but it kind of bothers me that the kid who didn’t care that her clothes didn’t match last week is even thinking about this kind of thing…
Is this all just part of growing up? Maybe I need to do that…
Lisa
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