Wednesday, February 5, 2014

Guess Jeans.....meant I guess I'm not that cool

Most people know that I'm not that big on clothes.  My co-workers can name all of the colors of my rotating 6 shirts.  My friends tease me about my "lesbian" boots, but I love them.  I hate shopping for clothes and I hate trying them on even more.  If I could wear a uniform to work, I would do it in a heart beat.  I still have clothes hanging in my closet from high school (14 years ago) and I still wear them.  If I find something I like then I try to get it in every color just to keep from trying on more clothes.  And I blame all of this on Guess jeans in sixth grade.

Guess jeans were the shit in the nineties.  I don't remember what else was popular during that time, but I know Guess jeans were important.  In sixth grade I wanted Guess jeans so badly.  I had struggled the prior two years trying to make friends at a new school.  Those Guess jeans were my in to the popular crowd....or so I thought.  I begged my mom to buy me a pair, which were probably around $50.  As a child with five siblings I imagine that was a crazy price for a pair of pants.  I would find it difficult to pay $50 for a pair of jeans now, as an adult.  But she got them for me.  I remember them very clearly.  They were a light blue jean color, with zips on the sides of the ankles.  And on the right left back pocket was that status symbol I wanted.  That little triangle of hopes and dreams. Those jeans fit like a glove.  I loved them and I'm sure I was beaming sunshine as I walked into my classroom that morning.  One of the popular girls noticed right away.  She asked, "New jeans?" but not in the way a friend would, in a Regina from Mean Girls bitchy way.  But that didn't knock me down.  I replied happily, "Yes, they are!  Do you like them?"  That was a mistake.  Asking her if she liked them?  What was I thinking?  The Guess jean serotonin chemicals flowing through my brain just could not be stopped.  The next thing she said changed my outlook on clothes.  "You probably sewed that Guess tag on a cheap pair of jeans just so you could have a pair."  Wow.  That may not sound that harsh now, but boy did it sting as a 12 year old girl.  It was at that point I realized I couldn't win and that I didn't even want to play the game. I don't remember what I said to her.  Probably something sarcastic. I just know I don't think I ever wore those jeans again.

And I'm pretty sure the next time I went shopping after that I picked out boy's shirts and track pants.  That's probably why I love my track pants so much now.  Perhaps one day I will find the love of clothes shopping like most women feel.  I don't know how to end this.  It seems like a really sad story.  So here's  a picture of the guess jeans I found on the internet and a picture of me from 7th grade to show how little I cared after that....





Nope that seems sadder....damn it now I will have to write a funny blog post just so you don't feel sad.  

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Kindergarten genius (in first grade)

If you are fortunate enough to know my mom, you know that she is notoriously late to everything.  (She will be quick to blame my dad or my siblings or the traffic or the weather, but when it comes down to it she is the common denominator in tardiness)  Sorry Mom, you know we love you.

Anyway, I felt that needed to be said before this story-

In first grade I was supposed to go on a field trip somewhere downtown. Probably a museum.  When you are six years old, a 30-40 minute trip downtown seems like an eternity.  And in no way could you travel such a distance and catch up with your classmates if you missed the field trip bus. So on this day, we (myself, my older brother, and my mom) were running late, as usual.  I think we were late to school so often, that until I started riding the bus in 4th grade, I thought going to the office to get a slip of paper was just part of my day.
We were probably only 10 or 15 minutes late but the field trip bus had already left.  The decision was made to just let me sit in the kindergarten class until my class returned later that afternoon.  I went to Mrs. Haymaker's class and took a seat in the circle of kids on the floor.  We started doing numbers and colors, pasting and cutting, and I thought I was a GENIUS.  I knew ALL of that stuff.  I could color inside the lines with ease. This was AWESOME.  I started thinking of other ways I could return to kindergarten on various days so that I could show everyone how smart I was.  I was in super "I'm a pretty kitty" mode.  Then, disaster struck.  They came down and pulled me out of the class.  My parents had decided they would drive me to meet up with the field trip.  My genius streak was over.   And now I had to go on this 14 hour trip to downtown.

I did get to experience the euphoria of feeling like a genius again in 8th grade.  I had been absent and had to go make up a math test during my study hall.  Since I am such an awesome multi-tasker I was able to absorb the lesson being taught while simultaneously taking my test.  When I went to my math class later on I knew how to get the answers before the student teacher could get through the lesson.  And he too, thought I was a genius.

Now I will leave you with this picture of me from first grade.  You're welcome.