I had one of those crazy mornings again. You know the ones — the ones that have me pulling in and out of the driveway multiple times because more than one kid forgot it was library, or crazy hat, or pajama day again. At drop-off, I got out of the car to hand deliver a top secret PTO document to the main office, and that is when I saw you. You were a vision. A sight for sore eyes — and my eyes were very sore because my youngest woke me up twice last night thanks to another bad dream he had from the television show he isn’t allowed to watch, Ghost Adventures.
You were relaxed and casually talking to another Mom. I said “hello” as I raced past, but not before I quickly looked you up and down. I know it’s rude to look you or anyone else up and down, but I think it’s important to note that I didn’t look you up and down in a, “Who does she think she is?” kind of a way, but in a, “Wow, she really looks great!” kind of a way.
Admittedly, I sometimes look you and other Moms up and down because even though I am 43, I am still learning how to dress myself and am in desperate need of help. I could not believe how amazing you looked this morning, and I needed to study your entire ensemble, top to bottom, in an effort to sear the image into my brain for future reference.
You were wearing ripped and cuffed boyfriend jeans because somehow you know that the skinny jean trend has recently peaked and is finally on its way out (thank God). In comparison, I am still in the process of replacing my wide leg boot cut jeans that peaked in 2008 with, you guessed it, skinny jeans. You found those designer jeans for $12 on the discount rack of a high-end department store all on your own, but I will have to fork over $128 for a similar pair because I need to shop in a store where the personal stylists outnumber the shoppers two to one.
Above your jeans you wore this adorable, sleeveless top that was neither too short nor too long but just right. Your upper arms were remarkably thin and defined in a way that made me jealous, but honestly, what do I expect? I am Italian, and my upper arms are supposed to flap when I stir the sauce I made from scratch. Also, I don’t work out.
You were tan, but it is only May, and this is the second day it is comfortable for anyone to be going sleeveless. How can this be? Are you using a self-tanner? How come you don’t have any of the telltale signs to expose you for the fraud that you are, like I do when I use a self-tanner? Do you exfoliate before you use your self-tanner? Tell me how you exfoliate, because I’ve done it but I still get dark orange spots around my ankles and elbows.
Your shoes had heels, and they were strappy, but they didn’t cause your gait to be awkward the way they do mine. You were gliding, as if you were barefoot. When I wear heels, I resemble a galloping Clydesdale with an inner ear infection. Plus, I just don’t have it in me to wear heels to drop-off. I feel stupid, but you can pull it off. How? Tell me your secret.
You were wearing chic, expensive sunglasses to keep the sun out of your eyes, but I can’t because I lost mine. I replaced them with another expensive pair, but then someone in my house stepped on them. Now I wear a pair I bought from Walgreens, and you can bet that nothing bad will ever happen to them.
Your hair was combed, straight, and frizz-free. Also, your roots were the same color as the rest of your hair. Come to think of it, your roots are always the same color as the rest of your hair. Mine turn a nasty shade of gray every six weeks, and I leave them like that for another two because I am too busy to visit the hair salon every six weeks. Are your roots naturally the same color as the rest of your hair even though you too are over 40, or does your hair stylist live with you? Do you do laundry, or do you just buy new clothes when the other ones get dirty? What about meals? Do you cook, and if you do, do you go shopping for food or do you use a delivery service? I tried a grocery delivery service once, when my husband was on a week-long business trip and the baby had scarlet fever and Coxsackie at the same time, but I had to pay a delivery fee AND give a tip, so that was the last time I ever did that.
Anyway … I guess I’m just worried you noticed me staring, and that you might think I’m judging. I want you to know that I’m not. I’m just a fan. Not a huge, creepy fan who stalks you on Facebook or anything, but a normal fan who admires you and truly appreciates your effort. I will try to remember my manners if I run into you again, but I can’t make any guarantees.
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