There Was A Time…

There was a time...
...When I used to be fashion conscious.

Now let me say that I have always beat to my own drum when it comes to fashion. I have always worn what I want, but it at least followed the style of the day. I had the bad hair of the 1980s and ’90s, the big glasses, the giant earrings and the ugly clothes, which, sadly, are making a comeback.

Today, while I wish I had more money to spend on clothes, I am surrounded by people who think they are fashion gurus and are not shy about their views, making such blatant statements as:

• Women who have blond hair and are over 30 are trailer trash because they obviously dye it and it looks ridiculous. (For the record, I have two aunts who both have yellow-blond hair. They have never dyed it and they are 45 and over 50.)
• Women who dye their hair all one colour are trailer trash. I have to dye my hair so now what?
• Girls under 30 have no right to wear red lipstick, they look like trailer trash. Are you seeing the pattern here?

Any way, these types of people drive me crazy because I do not think fashion is black and white.

Fashion is shades of grey and is all about interpretation and wearing something that makes you feel and look good.

However, dealing with people like this makes me want to go in the complete other directions, which, I know, is ridiculous.

There was a time …..
...When I baked nightly.

I would get a recipe for work that didn’t come with a photo, go home, make it and take photos of it for the paper.

My coworkers were happy because they often got samples. I would bake cookies and brownies and bring them in to share. I would have tea biscuits nightly.

Then I had my little guy. And after he goes to bed, I get ready for work, have a shower, read and go to bed myself. No baked goods to share. No tea biscuits for me.

There was a time….
...When I would read many books in a course of a week.
I can now read a magazine in the course of week, a book is a month or so.

There was a time…
...When the green monster would rear its ugly head every time I heard the words ‘I’m pregnant.’

The monster didn’t stay long and I eventually was happy for whoever was lucky enough to be pregnant, but still it appeared and made me feel badly for a bit.

Then I was lucky enough to become pregnant myself. My son arrived and he has brought me constant joy.

So there may have been a time when I had extra money and time, now I have little-boy giggles, pee on the floor, impish smiles, cute laundry, hugs and open-mouth kisses, peak-a-boo and constant happiness.