As I was putting on a pair of jeans, ones that were worn before the second pregnancy, I realized I could not get them up past my hips. Granted I know I have put on a couple of “L-Bs.” but the thing was they were not suppose to go on past my hips, the label says “super low-rise” Could it be I actually own a pair of Britney Spears, thong strap showing denim blues.
I was so mortified, I really cannot remember these jean being so low, what a ho I was . I swear if I saw my daughter wearing a pair of jeans like that I would flip. Then it hit me, I have said something, became something, something I thought I would never become- my mother.
Those low-rise jeans took me back ten years ago, Senior Girls Dance, I had picked out the perfect dress and was escorting my mom to pay for my said dress. Well when my mom saw it her expression said it all, it said “no daughter of mine is walking around like she just got off the hooker bus.” With a quick “NO” I was off to find another dress. I was so embarrassed, I wanted to look cool and sophisticated. I was seventeen I should of been able to wear whatever the hell I wanted.
My mom always made sure we were dressed appropriately, heck I spend three years in a Catholic school. We never walked out the door in anything to reveling. It was the source of much frustration as a teen-ager. We were allowed to experiment test the waters if you will. It is harder to go to far, into the water, when the better part of your high school days were during the Seattle grunge movement. My sister did have a little Goth faze but she was held back from dying her hair and piercing every part of her body.
After I left the house it took awhile to change my conservative wardrobe. Some low-cut shirts and tiny skirts. I did always have that little voice in the back of my head, I rebelled. I dressed the way I wanted and it was great. Mind you in no way did I look like I fell of the hooker bus, but I was sexy. So when did it all change? What made me cringe and inevitably question my choice in pant rise. How did I become mom?
I have to admit that I get a chuckle every time I catch myself yelling at my children “Don’t make me come up there” or as my mom teased me, when I called my daughter “Lady” like my dad called me. We come to learn that maybe what are parents taught so long ago wasn’t so bad. In sixteen years when Megan shows me low cut jeans or a reveling top I know I will give her the same look my mother gave me.
All this got me thinking about a Question of the Day awhile back, are you a better parent then your parents were. I answered yes and the truth is when Megan and Nolan are parents I hope they are a better parent then I was. I hope they learn from their mistakes as well as my own. One day, thirty years from now I hope Megan is blogging about her own “mom” revelation and admitting mom was right….only just a little.