Subourbon Mom


Stop Hiding Me Behind My Clothes
December 8, 2022, 5:00 pm
Filed under: Posts, Middle Age, Misc. Humor, shopping | Tags: , , , , , ,

Aaahhh..the holidays are here! Mariah Carey is screeching away in every store and the taste of panic-buying is in the air. You know what that means – sales.  Every day my inbox is flooded with exclamation points and percentages. Are the deals great?  Absolutely. They’ve even enticed me to crack open my dusty wallet. This year I decided it is time to buy some new clothes that don’t scream “I WORK FROM HOME AND JOGGERS ARE MY WAY OF LIFE.”

For those of you who know me personally, you know I’m not a big shopper. In fact, I frequently buy clothing sets off store mannequins because I suck at putting outfits together. I’ve been known to walk into a store, touch one item and run out because I’m so overwhelmed. So, when I decide to shop for clothes, this is not a decision I make lightly.

And here is where the first-world problems rant begins.  

When did retail clothing stores start ignoring the middle-aged woman demographic?

I’m a pretty regular size, and I used to be able to get cute clothes from stores that cater to the younger (30’s) set as well as the older (50s+) set. They were trendy, fit well and even had the right shape.

Maybe my expectations are off base, but I can’t seem to find any stores that cater to the middle-class, middle-size, middle-trendy woman anymore. It’s all either too young (for women whose boobs are still somewhere near where they’re supposed to be and the menopausal muffin top is still non-existent) or they are for the older female crowd that just wants to hide everything under a square shirt that hangs to the knees or beneath long sweaters called dusters. 

Side note: If you’re a store mannequin dresser (is there a real job title for that?), please stop pulling the backs of the shirts together with a clip so it looks like the mannequins have a waist.  If you have to do that, stop ordering square shirts. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve tried one on after seeing it there and walked out of the dressing room in a small tent.

I used to love Target, but don’t get me started on Target’s recent stylistic choices. I don’t want to live on the set of Little House on the Prairie or look like I sew my own clothes.

At the mall by my house, since the stores catering to younger women are now out of the question, I’m left trying to decide if I want to go classic square shirt and duster from J.Jill,  blingy square shirt and duster from Chico’s, or “I’m in my late 60’s and have a shit ton of money to spend” in Soft Surroundings.

The only store that still works for me is Loft. Does everything fit me? No. Is some of it too young? Yes. But I can still find work and casual clothes there that don’t break the bank, and that last longer than H&M’s one season wonders.

Since vitamin/supplement companies are finally realizing menopausal women are a real demographic (watch any middle-aged woman’s TikTok feed and see how many Provitalize ads come up), maybe clothing retailers should, too. Just because we need a better bra these days and jeans with that extra inch, retailers need to know that middle-aged women haven’t given up. We’re still trying to impress our partners, and, honestly, other women – but more importantly, we’re not hiding ourselves away from the world.  In fact, many of us are feeling more like our true selves than ever before.

Maybe, if clothes could be designed around what we look like now, not the past or the future, we wouldn’t spend so much on supplements and retailers could take advantage of that revenue.

So, there you have it – the gauntlet has been thrown – someone needs to design clothes for middle-of-the-road, middle-aged women that reflect who we are now, that don’t make us look like we’re trying to hard or that we’ve given up, and that don’t break the bank.  

And by the way, if you’re a woman who loves the stores I’ve just crapped all over, please keep patronizing them. We all have to shop where we are comfortable. I just haven’t found more than one place that meets my shopping needs and I’m grumpy.



The Sad Teletubby
August 1, 2021, 7:51 pm
Filed under: Exercise, Misc. Humor | Tags: , , , ,

I am a person who is weird about being on time. I get stressed out when I’m not, and other “Laties” stress me out too. So when I was late to my Pilates class, it did not go well. 

A few weeks ago, I knew I was going to be cutting it close to get to the studio on time. I would need to bring regular leggings, a sports bra and a tank top to class, and change when I got there.

I remembered it all, but instead of regular leggings I grabbed my biker short-length leggings, which are pretty much just Spanx without any of the benefits. I bought them because I was anticipating the studio being too hot in July.  I also mistakenly packed a tight, black tank top, not my usual flowy top that hides….a lot.

So there I was, skidding into the gym like I was ten on my dirt bike after landing a perfect jump. I changed my clothes in the mirrorless bathroom and joined the class. However, when I got to my station and looked into the mirror…OH…MY…GOD. 

Black is supposed to be slimming.

Staring back at me was a Teletubby in mourning.

The biker shorts squished all the doughy bits up to my waist and out the bottom to my knees. My body looked like someone had grabbed a tube of Jimmy Dean sausage, cut the ends off and squeezed from the middle.

So, I decided I would ignore it and that was fine, until about half-way through class when I saw it…the camel toe.  Friends, there’s no discreet way to fix that in a room full of people and mirrors. I hopped into the bathroom again and tried to fix it, but I knew it was a lost cause. I have a long torso and the shorts were (apparently) not long enough. It re-appeared and stayed for the rest of class.

What’s the big deal, you ask?  Isn’t it a class full of women?  C’mon, people.  You know we’re all super judgy, even though we say we aren’t. And if it’s just me that’s judgy like that, well, rest assured that Karma’s a real thing and she’s a bitch.

But it didn’t end there.  Being thrifty, I tend to get my workout clothes at discount or “cost-efficient” stores.  I think these shorts came from Old Navy. Anyway, as I was huffing and puffing during the workout, I started to smell something.

How was the scent of chicken nuggets wafting into the Pilates studio? There isn’t a Chick-Fil-A anywhere nearby. 

No…it can’t be…

It was my f#$%ing biker shorts! How could they do that?  I knew it wasn’t me because after class I ran back into the bathroom and did a smell check – it was definitely the shorts. And yes, I washed them before I put them on.

So to recap, because I was late, I looked like a sad, squished sausage and smelled like fast food.

Basically, I was a giant dog treat. 

So that’s why I try to be on time.      



Spongebob Nudiepants at the Gym
May 30, 2018, 6:00 pm
Filed under: Exercise, Misc. Humor, Sports | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Warning – this one is completely tasteless….read at your own risk…

I recently had a lengthy debate with some girlfriends over whether women should “vent the furnace” or wear underwear at night.

For those who said yes, that sleeping without underwear was their preference, the most common reason was because a long time ago, their mothers had said it was healthier.  My mom never said that, so I’m perfectly happy to be wrapped up like a Puritan every night.  Maybe the fact that I’m not going “nonederwear” explains why I have so many hot flashes at night – all that heat must have to go somewhere.

But apparently the idea that it is healthier to go without underwear is the same for whether or not people wear underwear with their exercise shorts that have the lining in them.  It seems that I am the only person in the universe that doesn’t go spongebob nudiepants at the gym.  But I have reasons:

  1. I’ve seen the sweat puddles in the exercise machine seats, and I don’t care how many wipes you use, once you see it you can’t get it out of your mind. I don’t want my stuff lathered up in someone else’s body butter.
  2. Men should double bag because no one wants to see the mouse get out of the house when it’s time to stretch. Women should do the same thing, because, let’s face it, sometimes a little landscaping might be amiss, and nobody wants that distraction either.
  3. And finally, I have a (completely unfounded) fear of Cooter Stank. I’m not the only one – have you seen the multitudes of products out there to prevent it?  And, weirdly, I’m not worried about it the rest of the time – I only freak out about it at the gym.  Even that doesn’t make sense because, let’s face it, morning workouts in the gym can be overwhelming to the olfactory senses.  Every day in the gym, no matter which gym you go to, it seems like there’s Man Who Ate Garlic Last Night, The Coffee Breather, and Please Use Deodorant As A Courtesy To The Rest Of Us Guy.

So, here’s an actual conversation in our house about wearing underwear under your shorts at the gym:

D1:  “Mom, you wear underwear to the gym?”
Me:  “Yep.”
D1:  “Why?”
Me:  “I’m afraid it will smell.”
D1:  “What will?”
Me:  “The Cooter.”
D1:  “Wait…what? Who calls it that?”
Me:  “Me.”
D1:  “I know somebody who has an ‘I Love Cooter’ magnet on their fridge.”
Me:  “You know that’s a political magnet, right?”
D1:  (Eye Roll) “Yes, I know, Mom.  I get the joke. But seriously, you know everybody in the gym smells bad, right?”
Me:  “I know, I just can’t help it.”
D1:  “You’re weird.”
Me:  (In my head – “You’re half me…” – secret smile)

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Hit On By A Woman

I’d rather be hit on by a woman than by a man.

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Let’s face it – a lot of women, when it comes to the fashion choices of their peers, are judgy sometimes downright bitchy.

Yep, I went there.

Maybe men are too – I just don’t know enough about that species, even after living with one for decades, to make that call. (I have my suspicions, but I figure this post will irritate enough people in one go.)

You can go ahead and get uncomfortable and deny that you and your friends are like that, and that it’s a sexist thing to say.  But I’ll bet you’re denying it while wearing some kind of socially acceptable clothing that isn’t made strictly for comfort. If you’re naked or wearing a onsie, I apologize for lumping you into this ridiculous generalization and salute you.

Now, if you’re out hunting in your local bar and your Cha Cha is hanging out there for all to see, then by all means, get those kudos from the guys – you probably don’t give a crap what other women are thinking anyway. Fist bump for setting a goal and going after it.

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But let’s be honest – most of you have been out with your friends at one time or another and some girl walked by looking slutty, overdressed, underdressed, dressed too young/too old or just too different.  Take your pick. And, someone in your group shook her head, pursed her lips, and said something mean about that girl behind her hand. If you’re in the South, she might even say something backhanded, like, “It must be nice to have enough confidence to go without a bra after nursing four kids.” So yeah, mean and bitchy. (I have no doubt there are men who do this too, and women who don’t – but if I talked about them, this wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.)

Don’t get me wrong, I like having men hit on me, too. It’s good to know that if all the rules in the world, my ethics and my love for Hubby were different, I could get a piece of that – it’s a powerful feeling. And having Hubby hit on me after 25 years of marriage is super-gratifying – I mean the man has seen me throwing up and giving birth to two kids.  There’s not a lot of glamour left.  Having a woman hit on me simply carries a different kind of weight – the same way someone telling you your dog is cute at the dog park might not be as satisfying as having an American Kennel Club judge tell you your dog could win the next championship. There’s a level of knowledge that makes the compliment mean more.

Sooo… another woman is going to get what went in to making all this awesomeness happen:

  • the hair products to make your locks smooth/curly/shiny/smelling good and every color of the hair rainbow
  • the blow-drying/straightening/curling so it looks like you didn’t blow dry/straighten/curl it
  • the makeup that’s just the right amount so it hides your flaws but doesn’t make you look like a ’ho
  • the clothes that say you’re not on the pole, but that still show off all the good parts (which by the way, aren’t necessarily the same for men and women)
  • the lengths you go through to not show panty lines – which leads to:
    • no underwear at all, a la Britney Spears back in the day (Millennials, think Kim Kardashian);
    • an uncomfortable thong that shows off all the cellulite; or
    • Spanx, which pushes all the fat into one place and looks like your grandma’s undies

images-3My guess is most men don’t really want to know how we Goddesses of Love and Lycra got this way. I love bologna, but I don’t want to know what it’s made of or how it got into those perfect, round slices of deliciousness. That’s what dating is for – to get beyond the packaging and, if you’re in your 40’s and lucky, the ingredients will be better than what’s in bologna.

Sadly, women don’t often openly and positively comment on other women, especially ones they don’t know.  Shame on us.  And, more often than not, it seems to me that women dress for other women, not for men – and it’s because we’re scared.

So the next time you’re out, no matter who you’re with or whether you know the person or not, send a genuine compliment out there – we are most critical of ourselves, and you never know what kind of day or week someone has had. Putting on a clean shirt or a bra may have been the best they could do that day.  Saying “Hey, I like your shirt” or “Your hair looks good today,” or even better, “I think you’re funny/kind/smart,” may make someone’s day in a way you never expected.

 

 

 

 



Did You Find Your Underwear?

Ummm…yeah…that was a question somebody asked me at work.

Lately I’ve had a few cringe-worthy moments, but the worst was a couple of weeks ago in the cube farm as I tried in vain to figure out why the underwear I had ordered from Amazon was apparently in shipping’s no-man’s land.

Wait, you ask… You ordered your underwear from Amazon?

That’s right bitches, I had to order my undies from Amazon because my regular suppliers apparently don’t carry it anymore.  And no, I wasn’t trying to buy any Victoria’s Secret lacy, scratchy-but-so-sexy-he-likes-it-so-I-guess -I’ll-get floss. I just wanted to get my fave jockey string bikinis, a.k.a. my Granny Panties, and Target, Kohls and Macy’s failed me.  I’m now down to 4 pairs, and each one has bare elastic at the waistband (bad enough that it’s actually irritating my skin). Even Daughter #2 recently threw a pair away while I was at work and sent me this text:

So, I finally gave in and ordered them from Amazon.

At my desk.

At work.

Let me tell you, it’s pretty embarrassing when:

  1.  You’re shopping for underwear at work;
  2.  The underwear you’re shopping for is cotton granny panties; and
  3.  Your co-workers happily stop by to chat and gleefully discover what kind of underwear you wear before you can clear your screen.

But that was just the beginning.  After seeing what was on the screen, co-worker Stacie asked, “Do you think maybe they didn’t send it because you’re not an 80-year-old woman?”

After I finally finished trying to justify why I was ordering underwear at work and why I like my comfy cotton Granny Panties instead of something sexier, I placed the order.  Of course, it has to be delivered to the office because Holly, the most expensive “free” dog in the world, has now destroyed over $700 worth of merchandise delivered to our house, including two prom dresses (see previous blog).

The package was due to arrive at the end of June. By the middle of July, no underwear in sight.

Between UPS, Amazon and Jockey, no one seemed able to find it. I had to figure out how to stalk Jockey (the seller), which required asking my cube neighbor Lacy for help. Then Hubby walked up (he works in the same office – no judging, please), followed by another co-worker Stacie, all of whom were very interested in the status of my underwear order.  So, there we were, all staring at the Amazon page displaying my pink and white Granny Panties as we tried to figure out the best way to find the package and get free stuff from Amazon.

Hubby, God Bless that man, didn’t even bother trying to persuade anyone that I wear other underwear (I do on special occasions).

I finally got my panties in a wad (c’mon, you knew I had to go there) and called Jockey, who of course didn’t have any record of receiving the order from Amazon.  So, I called Amazon.  All I can say is thank God it was a girl who answered.  Humiliation is having to clarify what the order was for to someone who clearly had never worn Granny Panties in her whole 20-year-old life; and then have her exclaim, “Oh, well at least the vendor was Jockey and not some random dude.”   Yeah sweetie – that’s where I’d choose to order my underwear from – some “random dude” on the internet.

In the end, I re-ordered, and after 4 weeks, I finally got my undies delivered (right to my desk).  Note the appalled look on the screen saver guy.

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Helpful Hints in Case This Happens to You:

  1. Don’t Google women’s underwear and think you’re going to not have creepy stuff come up on your screen
  2. Don’t get a dog that eats packages
  3. Don’t Google “missing underwear” – you’ll lose hours of your life reading weird articles
  4. Don’t click on random blog sites when Googling slang for underwear for your blog
  5. Don’t order your underwear at work (it’s frowned upon) – your IT guy might have something cheeky to say to you.

 

 

 




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