As I was shopping for large quantities of bottled water for my daughter's rescheduled party (yes, I'm aware that bottled water is evil. Not Dark Side evil, but pretty close. I'm sure this won't be the final straw in failing my Jedi training.), when I decided to look for underwear and pajamas and rain gear for the kids. Say what you will about big box stores - and I've railed against Walmart (sorry, sweet niece if you're reading) - but I'm a sucker for Target's kid clothes.
The following is what happened:
- I trolled the aisles of the girls section for pajamas. I didn't find anything springy or cheap enough (because I'm a skinflint, people), but I did hold up a pair of XL fleece pants and considered buying them for myself. They were too big.
- I wandered into the little kids section even though technically my kids are too big/old/mature for these clothes. Here, I found the perfect summer beach dress for my daughter, who at 9 can still wear a size 5 because she is my reincarnated mother (who only weighed over 100 when she got pregnant). Then, I noticed how many dresses I adored in the little kids section and even muttered to myself, 'That. Is. So. Cute.' At which point, nervous parents scooted away from me and held their babies closer. Mind you, I wasn't looking objectively at these garments for my own kids. I wasn't hypothesizing that these outfits would look mah-velous on that baby my husband wants me to have that is never going to happen. I was looking at them with this going on in my head: 'Hey. That would look awesome on me!'
|You know I could work this.|
|I like to draw shit.|
|Totally adorable for a middle-aged mom.|
|I like to wear cliches on my sleeve, or chest.|
Then I saw this.
|Damn, baby, who's taking YOU to the Oscars?|
This became a sobering moment for me. I realized that a.) I don't often buy new clothing for myself and that b.) I want to dress like a toddler. When my husband took his current job as a college administrator, my first thought was damn, I do not dress like a dean's wife. I cannot attend cocktail parties with the other spouses. You're going stag, dear. Now, my husband wears his red Chucks to work with a blazer and a sweater, so he also dresses like a toddler.
Once I realized that my fashion sense stopped at Garanimals, I left the Target baby section, checked out and bought myself a Tall Mocha at the Starbucks counter to feel just slightly more like an adult.
It didn't work.