Seeing, Dressing, & Accessorizing the Part
I think my plaid shirt is cute. My middle child tells me I look like a farmer when I wear it.
I feel so put together in my black jumpsuit. My son loves it, too. He says it makes me look just like a ninja.
Dressed for a business meeting, the eldest said I looked like a scary schoolmarm. It’s hard to please her, though. She says I look like a rejected rapper when I wear my hightops.
One of my bathing suits embarrasses my kids because they say it’s too sexy. The other embarrasses them because they say it looks like an old lady suit. (I’m looking for a “sexy old lady” one in hopes of finding balance.)
With the gray streak in my hair not at all camouflaged, the middle said I looked like that creepy woman with the spotted dogs. I think she was referring to Cruella Deville. She’s sort of a sexy old lady (see above).
When I was shaking my tail feathers to my new favorite song, all three said I looked like Beyoncé. Granted, they hooted and howled when they said it, but they still said it.
In my (one) formal gown and jewels for a party last winter, they said I looked like an opera singer.
When I painted more of myself than the boards I was working on for one of their blasted school projects, they said I looked like an artist just coming in from her studio.
My youngest says I look like a gypsy in my dangly earrings. The middle one disagrees. She says I look like a hippie in them.
So, let’s see what we’ve got: farmer, ninja, schoolmarm, rapper, sexy old lady, Cruella Deville, Beyoncé, opera singer, artist, gypsy, and hippie. My children see the wild, disparate, less visible parts of me. They prefer some parts more than others, but they are willing to see them all. If my kids are willing and able to see who I can be, it seems awfully foolish for me not to see those possibilities, too. See you at the mall. I’m off to accessorize more parts.
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Photo Credit: Cicconi, A. (2008). Active Senior Citizen at Swimming Pool. Retrieved from https://www.flickr.com/photos/catsplay/2686094665/in/