Height, Clothes, and a little Shrinkage

During the summer between fifth and sixth grades I hit a growth spurt. I went from being short, to tall in just a few months. Five feet two and-a-half inches at 12 years-old was tall. My family is on the average side of tall, and everyone thought I was going to follow suit. Why wouldn't I? My father is about 6'1, and my mother 5'8.  

The thing is... I've been that exact height EVER SINCE!!! I have not grown one.inch.since!!! Enough of the back story... Let's spring forward to last week.

I stopped by the mall looking for a particular kind of warm ups for my daughter. And wouldn't you know it, I stumbled on a sale. Not just any sale but a $5 sale! Yes, I found her warm ups, and really nice workout gear for myself... all $5 a piece. I ended up with two pair of long yoga style pants, and three pair of fitted tight like pants, along with tops! I felt like I had won the lottery.

Of course I had to model my new digs for my family. That's when I realized the yoga pants were really... really long. No problem. Most of my pants have to be cut off or hemmed. There was no way I was going to attempt do either to these pants. Can you even hem spandex/polyester?
Instead I got the bright idea to shrink them.

After finding the directions How-to Shrink Polyester and Spandex, I went to work. Bam!!! It worked... for one pair, so I'm back to the drawing board for the other.

Do you ever have to alter your clothes before wearing them? What are the best, or craziest methods you've used?

Panty Hose Are Still Evil

I absolutely HATE panty hose! When possible, I try to avoid wearing them at all cost. But then there are times when I just can't get around it, like yesterday! Three years ago I wrote Panty Hose Are Evil.

I was wearing a winter white skirt suit, one of those suits that "require" panty hose. Plus, the formalities of why I was wearing the suit, paired with winter still... you understand.

Remembering I didn't get hose, I ran to WalMart to pick up a pair of sheer, oatmeal. The reason for my disdain goes far beyond the itchy and scratchy. I can never get a pair to fit! They're always too short, too long, or something! I am 5'2 and one half inch, one hundred and fifty something pounds, and currently wearing a size ten/twelvish. I fall in the size 2 range, on the panty hose chart. Due to experience and to be safe, I buy a size three.

I gingerly pull the hose out of the bag, and they look a little short. Trying my best to make it to Sunday School, I dismiss it, and precede to put them on. Starting at the toes, like my mother showed me... I put one foot in, then the other, easing the panty hose up. They stop at the top of my thighs. Are you kidding me???

I take the hose off, and give them a stretch, trying to lengthen them. Starting over, I put them on again, the very same way. This time they just barely make it all the way up... and the crouch is still between my legs. Refusing to take them off again, I start lunging, and POW! The seat of the hose popped like a fire cracker, sending runs down the left leg.

On our way to church, I had to stop by WalMart, again. This time I was going to make sure they were big enough. I bought QUEEN SIZE. There were thousands of people (exaggeration, but there were a lot), and the lines were long! I put the new hose on after getting to church (I missed Sunday School). They fit.

By the time church was over, the queen size panty hose had given up on me. I had elephant legs. When I was a little girl, I couldn't wait to wear panty hose. Now, I feel like panty hose are a punishment.

What have been your experience with the evil ones?

Shopping With My Teen

My 13 year-old, of 15 days, wanted to shop for a pair of jeans, and t-shirt last weekend. It sounds like a fun time, shopping with my daughter, right?

NO WAY!!!

Here's the problem... she's short, 4 feet, 10 inches, weighs 98 lbs, and has a booty. She no longer fits into the little girl clothes, but not quite big enough for Juniors. If we happen to find clothes in Juniors, they're either way to grown up, or we have do alterations. The pants have to be hemmed almost a foot, and taken up in the waist.

I am not proficient at tailoring clothes. Lets be real, I suck at hemming!

When trying to find clothes, ie... skinny jeans, slacks, dresses, skirts... it ain't easy. Did I mention, she doesn't like ANY THING I like. No matter what I pick up, she frowns. Her sister can come back, pick up THE.SAME.SHIRT, say it's cute, and she's in love with it. What the what?!

Our shopping experience always ends in her getting frustrated, and pouting, me getting frustrated, and fussing! I'd rather have my teeth pulled than go shopping with her.

I try real hard to remember, my days of teen shopping. As a senior in high school, I weighed 98 lbs. thin as a rail, and light as a feather. NOTHING I wanted to wear fit. Shopping with my mother ended in me crying, and she wanting to pull her hair out of my head!

Finally, after going from store, to store, to about four other stores... we found a pair of skinny jeans, that with a belt, were okay. And thank God for Rue 21. They had what seemed like millions of printed T's. There was no major melt down, and we all survived.

The real test is on it's way. We're going Easter shopping soon. Get the pliers, and gas ready. I want it to be pain free!!!

Second Opinion

I've finally made it to post,

(Da, da, da, da.....)

100!

Thank you all for reading, commenting, and lurking.

Back to business, it's my 100th post!

Sorry the picture isn't the best. I tried to lighten it, but you get it right?!

After Christmas, Mr. Husband and I stopped by the mall. Approaching the door, I spotted a flier, Dillard's was having a bra sale. "Bra's $9.99, and up."

I was excited! I'm not too busty, and I thought, surely I could find a few bra's at $9.99.

Here's the thing... I had just about given up on bras! Like pantyhose, I think the bra was a man's idea. A conspiracy to keep a woman DOWNn!

]Sidebar[

In my experience with bras, they've rode up my back, not always held everything while exercising (try step aerobics with a bad fitting bra), and that awful underwire!

Once, an underwire was pocking me so much at work. I went to the bathroom, pulled it out, and went right back to my desk. Little did I know, removing the nuisance would cause the bra to collapse. One breast was up, and the other was down. Last year, I decided, I liked sports bras better. Mr. Husband doesn't seem to think they're sexy!

When seeing the sale sign, I had an idea. Get fitted! Maybe then, I'd know my actual size, and finally get a bra that wouldn't let it all hang out, or over. And I could give the sports bras a rest.

The attendant automatically asked what I was wearing. And I told her, a sports bra. She laughed, and proceeded with the fitting. The verdict... "34 DD, or D," she said.

What?!

I thought she was kidding for sure! Over the years I've worn 32B and C, as well as 34B and C. Surely, not a DD or D! She convinced me I am now more of a full busted woman. I told her I would be back for the sale.

I was disturbed by the findings, and decided to seek a second opinion. In the next couple of days, we'd be in near a Victoria's Secret. My plans were to pop in there, get fitted, and then come back and buy the sale bras.

While in Victoria's Secret, my bra specialist, Nikki, (that's her in the picture with me), did her thing. And she also asked, "What are you wearing?"

A sports bra, I told her. And she said that was unacceptable. There are no excuses, for wearing a sports bra on a regular basis. What ever! I'm too old to worry about pushing them up, I want comfort.

Her verdict... a 32B, and she wanted me to try something on. I frowned a little. I knew 32B was wrong, and all I wanted was to be fitted. But I tried on a 32B, Angels Air Push-Up. Didn't work! We then tried 34B, Angels Air Push-Up, it fit better, but no prize.

Finally, I tried on the BioFit, and Body by Victoria! There were fireworks, bells, and whistles! Yes! Full coverage, and sexy. My mind was changed, I no longer wanted to go buy the sale bras, at Dillard's. All I ever want again is the BioFit, and Body by Victoria!

Oh wait, halt... deal breaker, UNDERWIRE. "After two washings, the underwire will start coming out," I told Nikki.

She looked at me as if I had a third eye, in the center of my head. "You don't put good bras in the washer! Wash them on your hand, and hang them up to dry."

I left armed with a little pink card, with my bra size, the bras I liked checked off, and Nikki's name and number. I was satisfied.

Pressed Down, Shaken Together and Runnining Over

With seven people in our house, so far, I've washed a lot of laundry in my lifetime. There is no time to complain about it, like Nike, I just do it!

Instead of having a 'Laundry Day,' and trying to finish, (because that would never happen). I just wash an average of three loads a day. In a year's time, 365 days, that's 1,095 loads of laundry a year. Whoa! I'd never did the math before. In the 19 years I've been married, that's a whopping 27,375 loads of laundry!

Recently, the laundry seems to have to bottom. Each piece of clothing I remove from the 'Black Closet,' another replaces it. Sorta like a starfish growing another leg.

Like I said, there is no use in complaining about it. I've adopted the attitude... If we have dirty clothes, we are blessed to have clothes to wear, and a variety.

If having an ever over-flowing laundry was a sign of wealth, I'd be richer than Bill Gates. Booyah! How ya like me now! On to another 27,375 loads. Catch me if you can (or want).

Remebering a Friend

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, to mourn a dear friend, my favorite pair of jeans. They have served me well, with T-shirts, sweat shirts, and blouses; flip-flops, gym shoes and heels, taking me from grungy to casual, as well as some what dressed up.

Favorite jeans have labored in the trenches of Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. Never complaining, but always fulfilling the duty at hand, they will be missed.

Favorite finally gave in to countless washings, tours of duty through the dryer, and iron torture. They were faithful to the very end, succumbing to frayed hems, torn pockets, and ripped inseams.

Favorite will pass on the torch to new, to serve in many capacities, until raggedness.

Please bow for a moment of silence. . .

(To the tune of Taps)

Day is done, gone the jeans,
From the closet,
From the hanger,
From my butt;
All is well, safely rest,
In the trash.

911 Heeeelp!

Someone call 911! Bring in the dogs, detectives, CSI, Special Victims Unit, and Major Case Squad.(I guess you can tell I watch a lot of cop shows!) I’ve been violated!

It took me a while to notice, so I’m sure that I’ve disturbed the crime scene, my walk-in closet. The first time I realized something was a little fishy, and just didn’t feel right was Sunday afternoon.

Middle daughter had to sing on a program. Getting ready I pulled out my black slacks and put them on. They were a little snug, and thought they fit funny. So much so, I took them off, and checked the tag. I had to make sure they were indeed my pants. Mr. Husband, saw my confusion over the pants, and commented on their snugness (no it’s not a word). I put them back on anyway, and went on my merry way. That was so NOT a good idea! I paid for it. Talk about a super wedgy

Getting ready for work Wednesday, I pulled a pair of khakis out of the closet. They too were fitting a little snug, and were up my legs. I knew for certain these were MY pants. Since the summer between 5th and 6th grade, let’s say more than a few years ago, I haven’t grown an inch taller. I'm still five feet two and one half inches.

To get into these pants, I had to do the tight pant dance. It goes a little something like this:
Hop, hop, puuuuuull. Shimmy left, shimmy right. Hop – shimmy. Hop – shimmy. Zip. Squat. Breath… squat. Done!

I got smart, and didn’t wear tight pants that day. At work, I’d be in those pants far longer than the hour-long graduation program at a church. One rug burn, minus the rug, is enough for one week. It’s no coincidence that more than one pair of pants are not fitting. Someone has been in my closet altering (shrinking) my clothes, and handling my things.

Mr. Husband says yes, someone has been in my closet shrinking my clothes, all right. The culprits are Coca-Cola, Chessmen Cookies, and A&W Cream Soda!

Book em' Dano!

Pantyhose Are Evil

I knew it!

The inventors of pantyhose are MEN! Allen Gant, Sr., and Glen Mills, men!

Only a man would invent something so uncomfortable for women to wear. Had they test driven a pair themselves; on a hot day in July, the results would be different. I guarantee!

Not only did they make something so itchy, scratchy and confining, they got women to buy into the idea wearing them is sexy. WTH! We’ve been hoodwinked, bamboozled, down right deceived!

Tina Turner was once the face, more accurately, the legs, of L’eggs Pantyhose. Their slogan was, “Nothing beats a great pair of legs.” No pantyhose on the planet can make your legs look like Tina’s, then or now!

Another thing … No matter what size you buy, once in a while you will get a pair that will stop mid-thigh. You can pull, stretch and do the pantyhose dance/hop, as much as you want. They won’t go any further. Being hot and a sweaty, or just damp from the shower, it’s the same affect. You might as well go bare legged.

I’ve tried to stop runs with finger nail polish and super glue. Twisting unsightly runs from the front to the back of my leg, only made me look twisted and ridiculous. After a few wears, pantyhose will lose their shape, and sag around my ankles looking like elephant legs. I’ve had to pull and tuck them under my feet, and stuff them and into my shoes.

The most creative thing I’ve done is make one pair of hose from two. Cut a right leg from one, and a left from the other, then put one on top of the other, makes a whole pair. My mother taught me that trick. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?

Women do all of these things and more for the sake of sexy?! Bah humbug.

The cost… I try to buy the cheapest pair at Wal-Mart, generally, Brown Sugar. They were $1.50. Recently, in a hurry, I stopped to grab a pair of hose. I’m looking for my brand, and kept seeing the wrong price. Right brand… wrong price. Dang-it. They had gone up to $2.50. I had to buy them. L’eggs, Hanes, Vasserette and other name brands are more than $2.50.

Department store prices start at $12. Can you believe that! Pantyhose for the price of dinner, that’s nonsense. In my lifetime, I’ve spent a boatload of money on pantyhose. Can I claim them on my taxes?

As a young girl, I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to wear panty hose. I wanted to make the swish sound when your thighs rub together, just like Ms. Brown at church. Now I’m not fond of that sound, AT ALL!

Nylon was first used as fishing line among other things, and Dupont once bragged, that this fiber was “as strong as steel, as fine as a spider’s web.” The same material that can hold a hundred pound fish, rips, runs and tears on a woman’s leg. Go figure.

Okay, Who's Eating The Socks???

Lately, I’ve found myself pondering life’s more difficult questions. What is my purpose in life? The most burning question, where in the hell are all the socks going?

With seven people in our family, we, no, I wash a lot of clothes. (That’s another blog for another day.)

When I put clothes in the washer and dryer, generally, they come out. My son’s jeans, the girl’s school uniforms, and my husband’s work clothes, all go in and come out, successfully. Even under shirts, panties and bras go in, and come out. When it comes to socks, something or someone is happening to them. I’m serious, there has to be a sock thief, fairy or some other explanation.

A load of white clothes are sorted and put in the wash, with a full cup of Tide powder, and a softener ball of Snuggle Softener. After washing, rinsing and spinning, the load is then transferred from the washer to the dryer. The two are side by side. There is no traveling across the room, or out of the laundry room to a second location. I’ve learned from all my hours of watching CSI Miami, Law and Order, and Without A Trace that leaving the first location, (crime scene) most likely leads to death.

Once in the dryer, two Gain joyful expressions dryer sheets are added to the load. The timer is set for 80 minutes. All the clothes come out of the dryer, nice and warm, smelling fresh and clean. They are then transported to the den, the second location, for folding. Clothes are folded, and stacked in individual piles. No matter how many times this ritual is performed, the outcome is the same. At least five socks are left without a mate! How in the hell does that happen?

Now we have a basket full of mixed-matched socks of all types crew, ankle, three quarter, along with tube, athletic, dress, footie and thermal socks. Name brands range from Hanes to Starter, Fruit of the Loom and every thing in between. Once in a long while, we bring out the basket and try to mate the socks in that basket. The basket remains half full!

So what do we do with the mixed-matched socks? Glad you asked.

With all the socks that are missing a mate, the kid’s sock supply gets a little low. When in need of socks they go to “The Sock Basket,” retrieve, and wear a pair of mixed-matched socks. If you were to raise one of my children’s pants leg, at least two days a week, you may find them wearing an ankle sock with a crew sock, or any other combination.

So why don’t we just throw out the basket of mix-matched socks, and buy more? Then what would my kids wear???

What Not To Wear

Going shopping for a simple pair of jeans can turn into a chore, and a clash of the times!

On one end of the spectrum, jeans are either low rise and or skinny (what we used to call straight leg). I’m 40 years old, (but look 26), the mother of five children, with have an ample behind. I have no business showing my butt crack in a pair of low-rise jeans. They were NOT made for women with any booty! And the last time I was in a pair of straight leg jeans, I was in Jr. High. And I’m going to leave it that way! Wearing a pair of either one of those jeans makes me a candidate for “What Not To Wear!”

On the other end of the jean spectrum, are the ones sporting an elastic waistband. Again, I’m only 40, (but look 26), and I’m not ready for the granny jeans. I’d love to find a pair of jeans that fit great, can be worn in any era, and outlast the latest trends.
All of the trendy jeans are cute. They fit, and I’d surely look very stylish in them. I simply refuse to dress like my 19-year-old daughter’s twinkie. Style, and flare is what I’m looking, for not my daughter’s clothes, and surely not “The MOM” jean.