Okay, so I was one of those (young) mothers who showed up to school plays wearing vintage concert t-shirts and jeans while the other (proper) mothers were dressed in hideous slacks and fucking frilly floral-print blouses–probably because they had to bust out early from work to make it in time for their child’s solo. Of course, there were those mothers who didn’t work, and for some reason still chose to wear clothes from the Quintessential Mom Store. I never could ( and still cannot) understand the difficulty in slummin’ it once in a while in a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, concert or plain.
I had a hard time relating to other mothers when my daughter was young, not because I was younger than the average mother, but because I looked younger than the average mother. I live in a small town governed by prominent families, and the women always dress like they’re on their way to a funeral, or a fucking June Cleaver Fan Club meeting. And that’s a-okay with me. I don’t give a good goddamn what people wear. But for some stupid reason, these people do give a fucking fuck. These women are the sort who read those bullshit click-bait articles on Facebook that talk about what women over thirty should not be wearing.
I can’t tell you how many field trips I chaperoned, and the other mothers shut me out of their clucking clan. And it wasn’t for lack of effort on my side. Anyone who knows me knows I do not have a problem introducing myself, and joining conversations. The only mothers I got on with were those who were closet smokers. Ha-ha! I find that really fucking hilarious. If I have to explain why…well, I shouldn’t have to explain.
I’ve gotten away from the point of this post.
The point of this post is that it’s no one’s business how others choose to dress, or what color someone’s hair is from week to week. I’m so sick of seeing these articles on social media: Fashion Trends No One Should Follow. Or: If You’re Over 25, You Have No Business Shopping In These Hip Stores. FUUUH-CK YOU! And don’t even tell me a woman of a certain age can’t rock cotton candy pink hair.
For real, I couldn’t care less if a woman shows up to her child’s school function looking like she shopped at the Mom Store, or rummaged through Janis Joplin’s closet. As long as a woman doesn’t show up to volunteer at school with her tits and ass hanging out, shut the fuck up, and uncross your judgmental eyes.
Seriously, get your shit together, ladies. Quit picking on each other.
For real, sometimes I legit think some people wake up every morning with a goddamn mental outline, planning how they will make another person feel like shit. And I don’t only mean mothers. People in general are jerks.
Don’t be a jerk.