where wildly different is perfectly normal
No fashion plate
No fashion plate

No fashion plate

I’ve never been much on staying current with fashion. I make sure what I’m wearing is attractive, that it fits, and that it is comfortable. I tend to live in blue jeans and my Crocs (don’t knock my Crocs, I love them). But I don’t read fashion magazines and don’t really care what length hemlines are this season. I’ve been like this forever, as seen here:

Yes, I dressed myself that day. I was about 4 or so. And until A was that age, I swore up and down that my momma dressed me funny. Uh, no. Hey, it was comfortable and fit (mostly) and, uh, I’m not even going to touch attractive. At least my dad didn’t dress me that day, my clothes were actually right-side-out and facing forward (always could tell who dressed my little brother).

So I bring this up because of yesterday’s Bronco shirt incident. Next chance I get, I’m buying Tom a warmer Broncos shirt. Whether he’ll wear it is another matter. But I can’t let him parade around the house committing fashion crimes, it’s just indecent. ‘Cause then A sees him and his little “Calvin and Hobbes” brain takes over and the next thing you know, he’s wearing a gray sweatshirt under his short-sleeved green polo and goes to school that way because that’s how daddy wore his shirt yesterday. Not a battle I was willing to fight this morning, we all see how I dressed myself at a young age and at least he was warm.

One comment

  1. cursingmama

    he he he
    Our school psychologist talks about choosing your battles wisely; as parents we’re alloted so many hours of talk they’ll listen too and nobody knows for sure how long it is. He says to make sure we use it for the most important stuff; the other stuff they’ll figure out on their own. Your mom must’ve been on top of that ;P

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