Wednesday, April 8, 2009

The obvious solution: a nudist colony

After I wrote my woeful “I’m having issues with the hippie chick and we haven’t even become friends yet” post, I got an email from my friend, Amy—no, not that Amye—who formerly lived in Mulletville. She wrote:

I read your post tonight and wanted to remind you that even if I don't have a child I still want to be your friend, and I wear yuppie sweaters because I too would like to wear funkier clothing items but am too uptight as well I know this is a very large run on sentence but I have had a lot of shiraz.

Ok, do we love Amy? Yes.

Two things struck me about her email. First, you don’t need to have children to be my friend—that’s madness. There’s an application form, yes, but you don’t need to have birthed anything to fill it out.

Second, Amy hit the nail on the head with the whole “too uptight” thing. I mean, that’s it. That’s why I’m not a mellow hippie chick. It’s not so much that I’m a yuppie; it’s that I’m too uptight, especially about my clothing.

And I know exactly whose fault it is.

My damn mother's.

When I was a little girl, my mother, Linda, loved to dress me in color coordinating outfits. A typical outfit was:

a) yellow and green striped shirt
b) yellow pants
c) yellow and green striped socks
d) yellow and green striped barrette
e) it’s none of your business about my underwear (but they were probably green with a yellow ladybug)
f) green shoes

I probably also only ate yellow and green food that day.

Up until the age of five I was a good little brainwashed minion, until one morning Lori Dixon announced at the bus stop that she had chosen her own ensemble. She was unkempt and her Mickey Mouse shirt was stained, but she was everything I wanted to be.

So the next morning, instead of wearing the clothes my mother had laid out for me, I selected my very own outfit. Because I was such a considerate child, I incorporated some minor matching elements to appease her hunger for matchy matchness.

My mother didn’t talk to me that day.

We’ve recovered from that incident, obviously, but as you can guess, Junior’s miniature frame has reignited Linda’s passion for dressing little people like freak dolls. Seriously. When she used to babysit Junior regularly, I’d come home to find Junior dressed in something entirely different—something matchier—than the perfectly fine outfit in which I’d dressed him that morning.

Understandably, it pissed off Chuck. So on the days she came, we intentionally dressed Junior in unflattering color combinations just to see her expression and to see how long it would take her to change him.

Some days I wasn’t even out the door.

But then Chuck got laid off. Linda stopped coming up, and Junior stopped wondering why he was getting dressed twice a day—once by cackling parents and the other by a zealous matchnut.

But then Chuck had his operation and became a bedridden sack and Linda started babysitting again. Just the other day, she took Junior back to her lair so I could have a night to myself. Sensing that she was hungry to clothe him, I let her pack his overnight bag. This is what she packed:

For one night.

The woman has issues.

So now you understand why every time I stand before my closet I long to pair that polka-dotted shirt with the plaid pants just because I can, but I can’t. The stripes run too deep.


P.S. I hope Amy isn't mad that I used her tipsy email. It was so cute I couldn't help it!


Leanne said...

I want a friend to write me tipsy e-mails too. All my friends write ones that are so cryptic and short I can't even understand them. What does that mean? I think it's the drugs.

I digress. I look at pictures of my teen now as a baby and am shocked by what she wore....someone of it was the style though. At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. Oh, but I'm paying for her therapy should she need it too. Sigh.

Jeanne Estridge said...

I have what my husband calls a role reversal with my daughter. She critiques my clothing and it's never right. What can I expect, though? She was accessorizing by the age of 5.

Maybe we should matchmake with her and your mother....

Suzi said... just need to pair polka dots with plaid and document it on your blog just to show you do have the lackadaisical hippy chick in you. We all know it's just need to prove it to yourself.

Keely said...

Hm. I wore a lot of hand-me-down corduroys from my male cousins. I had a hard time re-embracing corduroy when it came back into fashion.

I'd join a nudist colony, but it's effing cold here 8 months out of the year, and the other 4 you might sunburn something important.

Debbie said...

I don't know why I haven't ever thought of the friend application. The fun I could have with that!

Dto3 said...

Personally, I think you should just head back to the Banana.

Seeker said...

You get no opinions from me. i wouldn't know matchy if it bit me. i just wear all black and i am fine... and may i ask a question? What's wrong with polka dots and plaid? I like them both and they are both shapes so they match, right?

mo.stoneskin said...

Is there only one shoe there?! The poor kid.

I love Amy's line "as well I know this is a very large run on sentence but I have had a lot of shiraz". Beautiful stuff.

My wife tends to dress our baby girl, as opposed to me dressing her I mean, because when I dress her I tend to want to do it quickly, so I just grab anything. My wife, on the other hand, dresses her like a little princess every day. Is life gonna be difficult when she's a bit older?

Lindy said...

My daughter is a little fashion diva and I'm a complete tomboy. My MIL loves to send her flowery little sun dresses and she LOVES to wear them...I cringe.

Mary Anna said...

I have to admit that I, too, am a matchy-matchy uptight yuppiesque suburbanite. It's so sad that I go shopping and end up with stuff that looks like everything else in my closet. I did branch out this fall, though, and bought an orange (gasp!) sweater.

kyooty said...

love the inner workings of your minds! :)

Otter Thomas said...

That sounds like my wife. Everything has to match. Not just clothes either.

Peggy said...

I don't really have a problem with dressing my long as they're relatively clean, I'm good. My husband, on the other hand, dresses them (on the rare occasion that he actually dresses them) as uncoordinated as humanly possible. Everyone knew that I had gone out the night before Breakfast with Santa (and was subsequently home in bed hungover...I know, mother of the year right?) just by the way my kids were dressed....oh the embarrassment!

Christopher Jones said...

So, as a child, yo walked around looking like a plate of peas and mustard? Geez, that's the crappiest color combo for any group of minions to wear.

blognut said...

Confession - I am a matchy-matchy sort of person. I don't inflict it on others, but I do need a bit of coordination. I did inflict this OCD of mine on my children, but didn't fight it when they became old enough to choose for themselves.

I feel so much better with that out in the open.

Frogs in my formula said...

There's nothing wrong with polka dots and plaid. If they're both yellow and green.

San Diego Momma said...

My mom dressed us like hobos and I can't shake the bum wardrobe. I've also passed it onto my kids. The tatters run deep.

I always wanted to be matchy matchy, but the talent eludes me.

Stephanie said...

OMGosh that e-mail blurb was hysterical!

I'm not a yuppie either I'm just uptight too! I can't wear the stripes with the polka dots :(

Stacy Uncorked said...

Where is this friend application and where do I sign up? ;)

I'm afraid I'm one of those that makes sure the Princess Nagger is dressed in coordinating outfits... However, on the days she doesn't have school and she picks out something on her own, I don't make her change into something more 'matchy', because sometimes her 'fashion statement' is just too cute and funny and I love the entertainment value... :)

Where we're at as we head into summer.

  Easter: "Look, Mom! Everett made all of your moods on his Easter eggs."