Tomorrow we celebrate the first day of spring. Tonight I have a house full of 10-yr-old-ish girls...because in 2001, with the first day of spring came the birth of my first baby girl. My best friend and I chaperoned this horde of estrogen to the local indoor pool this afternoon, and in looking around at the other patrons for two hours, I couldn't help make the observation that nobody looks attractive poolside...in March...in Vermont. Not even the "beautiful people" (as my dad calls them) can find favor in a bathing suit...what with nothing but blues, greens, and whites of the room casting their sallow glow upon all that pasty, waterlogged skin. And pasty, waterlogged, hairy man skin is even worse. Oh, and then add jiggling cellulite and/or wrinkly folds...Acne in odd places...Snotty nostrils...Calloused winter unpedicured feet. Hm?...What? Oh, you're eating. Sorry. Hey, you've got some popcorn in your teeth there. Anyway...I chose not to be part of the scantily clad today. And I think I heard a gentle whisper of Thank You from the Universe.
While we're on the topic of the cutaneous, there's a question I've been pondering for a few weeks now. And let me preface (for those of you who don't know me or my usual attire well) by saying that I've been working at home for 9+ years (since that spring bairn was just a wee 7 months old), so I've been out of the mainstream dress-clothes loop. I've been obliviously wiling away the days at my desk, headphones in place; clad in boxers, sweats, hoodies, jeans...and yes, oftentimes unshowered and braless. Don't judge me. You're just jealous. My life is grand, after all.
I digress. My question is (drum roll)...Do people still wear NYLONS? And by people I don't mean grannies in church with their favorite reinforced-toe nudes bunched around their kankles. I'm talking 30-something stylish work-a-day women who just might watch What Not to Wear faithfully. I just can't imagine putting on a thin layer of tan-colored fake skin, as it were, for the sole purpose of trying to convince the world that you're tan, when you and said world clearly know you are not. Aren't nylons really just the original spray-on-tan? And aren't spray-on-tans the tackiest thing next to...oh, I don't know...toupees? Should I find some matching arm nylons? What about my neck?
Tights are ok...at least they provide warmth. Stockings with garters...they serve their purpose, if ya know what I mean. But nylons, dear nylons...so lame. But again, feedback for the out-of-the-looped...please...just in case I have to wander out into the world anytime soon.
As I type this there are half a dozen prepubescent girls banging on the window behind me, out there in the chilly dark of night, with that super-big, once-every-20-years (or whatever) moon as their backdrop, faces alight by flashlights, moaning and giggling, faces painted zombie style (beauty make-over sleepovers are so last season, apparently...but you may want to check in with Stacy and Clinton on that).
I have two new pairs of sandals waiting patiently in their boxes in my bedroom. My ungues are freshly painted Frosted Fuchsia. And so I'll leave you with a wish for a Happy Spring Equinox. And a Happy Start of Skin Season (I've officially banned pullover sweaters and dress boots...the mud boots won't be leaving my side til the sap stops running). And since we're just days out from St. Patty's Day, I'll throw in an Irish blessing as well (even though I may be more -ish than Ir-): May you and these beautiful girls enjoy flawless skin and countless more moon-filled evenings full of laughter and friendship. Happy birthday, my sweet Keegan, my "little fiery one."
