Ramblings of a slave at home mom

I remember that it started when I was a student in middle school. I was bored. Going to school wasn't really an enjoyable thing. The other kids were mean to me daily. My creativity needed an oulet. That's difficult when one can't paint, draw, sing, or photograph. I made up stories to vent my bad feelings but it wasn't enough. I needed a new way to enjoy life.

Another issue was contributing also. It was painfully obvious that no matter how hard I tried, I was never going to be part of the in crowd. Too poor, too awkward, too shy--it just wasn't going to happen. So I took control. If I was going to get tortured daily because of the way I was, why not control it?

I created themes. I created things to enjoy. Things to keep me going.

I wore an old straw hat for a week or so. I put something different on the band each day. I remember wearing fresh flowers on it. I read every James Bond book I could get my hands on. There was a strange one that claimed Mr. Bond was a real person. So I had a t-shirt made for myself. It read "James Bond Lives...". People were so rude about that shirt. I still don't understand what the big deal was.

I remember I got a Barbie doll as a gift. She came with little cardboard pieces that had a hole in each to put them on Barbie's earrings. Well, why should Barbie have all the fun? I wore them on my earrings. They were just silly little things, music notes, etc. Some girls started teasing me about them. "They are for your Barbie to wear. Not you." Who says so? Why?

One day I took an old pair of jeans and cut the legs off at the knee--as if I were making shorts. I put the shorts on and then put the legs on, tying them just below my knees so they stayed up. I thought it was great. That day was very very rough. Kids literally followed me around at lunch just to make fun of me.

At school dances(I LOVE to dance), the kids played way too many slow songs. I, of course, had no one to slow dance with. Bored out of my skull, I picked up my jacket, zipped it up, put one sleeve over my shoulder, the other in my hand, and danced with my jacket. I remember one girl telling me to stop. She said I was "ruining the dance for every one else". How?

Here I am 30+ years later and still people are down on me for being creative--for not being mundane. I'm not talking about wearing big fluffy bear claw slippers to an important business meeting. I'm talking about having fun with how I look. I made a flower vase out of my hair one day. I wear long colorful fake eyelashes on other days. The first day of the 2009 NFL season, I wore a jersey and put black makeup under my eyes.

None of those things are harmful. I don't have a professional job. I'm not wandering around with naked people, swear words, or offensive statements on my shirts. I'm not wearing shirts with cleavage. I'm not wearing tight little skirts. I'm just dressing up in a fun manner.

So why does it bother people so much? Are adults really no further advanced than those children I went to school with?

My husband, though I love him so, is one of the people who is bothered by the way I dress. He dislikes my makeup, my hair, and my clothes most of the time. He wants me to 'feminine'. He wants me to 'not look like a freak'. How can some people have so much fun with me, though they never dress like me, and others be so offended? What is so wrong about blue lipstick? What's wrong with having a theme to follow some days in one's attire?

I am at a loss to understand this.

 

Why are some people offended that I choose to look the way I do?

So uh yeah...I was uhm busy...

That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

I won't mince words on this one. Stepson has been allowed to move in with his Mom. His father and I are evil, ya know. Well, that's according to the boy. I told him it was absolutely amazing the speed at which he went from depending on me every day for every need that came up  to hating me.

I neglected my blogs and therefore lost touch with a long lost friend from highschool. I hope she doesn't think I didn't want to talk to her.

 

I managed to gain so much weight that I had to buy the bathingsuit with the skirt and other features to hide my fat. I didn't want people asking when the baby was due.

 

I spent $279.60 on a pair of boots. Yes, that's right--$279.60.

 

I'm still addicted to Puzzle Pirates.

 

oh, and Happy Father's Day! I went out to mow my dad's yard for him and mowed right over his tv antenna cable. yeah...happy father's day, dad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apparantly I have to be addicted to something. It used to be Puzzle Pirates, now it's cleaning.
I am very miserably sick, yet I cannot stop cleaning. This is not like me. I don't even work this hard when I feel good. I did not spend the last 30 years sluffing off just to develop a work ethic now! This is horrible. My life's work--erm..lack of work--all for nothing!
The other day I felt so horrible that while cleaning, I fell on the floor and moaned for a bit. Nobody cared much. Later my husband told me that he had heard me, he just didn't get up because there was nothing he could do for me anyway.
While I was upstairs cleaning this morning, the kids were downstairs feeding a pie to the dog. Now if I'd been my usual lazy self, I could be eating pie right now!