Versatility

I guess I have lived long enough to appreciate versatility.

I sold yearbooks at registration. Was nice to see the students, all rested and relatively well behaved. But some of them brought their parents . . . or their parents brought them, I'm not too sure.

And for the most part, the parents look like parents. Like my parents look. And then there are the others. Tattoos on wrists, hands, shoulders. Eyebrows pierced. Lips pierced. Tattoos on chests brought into view with a tiny tank top. No, really, I'm talking about the parents.

And lately, I've been thinking about how lucky I am that I feared my parents tremendously . . . and that they weren't into that. Gives me versatility.

I can go as punk as the next person. And the next day? I can be teacher girl. Preppy as can be. I have the luxury of being able to "clean up nice", something you cannot do with a large bad faded tattoo on your wrist . . . or your breast. And all these thirty somethings must have gotten the facial piercings in the last five years. Why? Couldn't they just have made the statement with fishnets and black eyeliner? So they can show up at school with their kid without it obviously looking like they are still trying to look like a kid?

There is nothing more brain swelling than the juxtaposition of a teen trying to look grown up, next to their grown up who to trying to look like a teen.

And I know Princess wants to turn me in to What Not to Wear for wearing skully socks. But I can take them off.