I was never hip.
Hippy? Well, yeah...I could stand to lose a few inches. And then a few more.
Hippie? For sure. Not the Woodstock variety, but I am a tad crunchy sometimes.
Hip? Never. Never in a million years, never.
Even worse...
I don't even fit into the "Uncool is cool" category anymore.
My dorky cool expired with the second baby and the saddle bag permanently attached to my belly...the spit-up I never seem to notice, having been chucked over my shoulder and run down across my butt...the giant booger, or the nauseatingly iridescent snot streak on the back of my shoulder or thigh, which my three year old decided to decorate me with, when I wasn't paying attention... the clothes that don't quite fit right because my body adheres to no fashion designer's rulebook, category or size...and my hair, which even when it isn't falling out in it post-hormonal-surge clumps...is at the mercy of two tiny fists with an unbreakable grip. If I had the right shaped head, I swear I'd shave it off, but I wouldn't even be cool then. It's a hairstyle I coveted as a teen and all through my college years. I still get jealous when I see a woman who has the perfect head, who can rock that style. However, from the feeling of my skull, I'm pretty sure they used the salad spoons to get me out! If I shaved all of my glorious thinning hair, I'd have a new nickname: "Lumpy" ...and they wouldn't be talking about the sock stuck in my bra hitching a free ride from static cling.
*sigh*
I've just kind of given up on cool. I don't think 'sexy' is in my vocabulary anymore. And I'm pretty sure graceful was never there anyway. What do I have left? I can rock some geeky, unhip silliness (or at least my kids think so).
So, I guess I'm in the dork category for life.
Hippie? For sure. Not the Woodstock variety, but I am a tad crunchy sometimes.
Hip? Never. Never in a million years, never.
Even worse...
I don't even fit into the "Uncool is cool" category anymore.
My dorky cool expired with the second baby and the saddle bag permanently attached to my belly...the spit-up I never seem to notice, having been chucked over my shoulder and run down across my butt...the giant booger, or the nauseatingly iridescent snot streak on the back of my shoulder or thigh, which my three year old decided to decorate me with, when I wasn't paying attention... the clothes that don't quite fit right because my body adheres to no fashion designer's rulebook, category or size...and my hair, which even when it isn't falling out in it post-hormonal-surge clumps...is at the mercy of two tiny fists with an unbreakable grip. If I had the right shaped head, I swear I'd shave it off, but I wouldn't even be cool then. It's a hairstyle I coveted as a teen and all through my college years. I still get jealous when I see a woman who has the perfect head, who can rock that style. However, from the feeling of my skull, I'm pretty sure they used the salad spoons to get me out! If I shaved all of my glorious thinning hair, I'd have a new nickname: "Lumpy" ...and they wouldn't be talking about the sock stuck in my bra hitching a free ride from static cling.
*sigh*
I've just kind of given up on cool. I don't think 'sexy' is in my vocabulary anymore. And I'm pretty sure graceful was never there anyway. What do I have left? I can rock some geeky, unhip silliness (or at least my kids think so).
So, I guess I'm in the dork category for life.
posted by Mo at 6:34 AM
1 Comments:
Shame on you. You know better! Cool is not about looks. It's about what's on the inside. And there, my dear, you have most of us beat. No one I know can turn a phrase like you and make us snort coffee all over the keyboard, ruining our computer, only to have us come back for more after shelling out hundreds of dollars to get the laughter induced damage fixed. That, my dear, THAT, is your very essence of 'Cool' - the ability to keep someone coming back for more time with you. ;)
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