and purses, and makeup.Not me.
I was the quintessential Tom-Boy growing up. With four big brothers, I was more into skateboarding than shoes and punching than purses. And, I HATED wearing dresses.
I remember sneaking pants to school like some people sneak alcohol (in a brown paper bag) then slipping into the bathroom to change so Mom wouldn’t find out.
Yeah, I was sneaky and sly when it came to clothing but not because I wanted to show any skin.
God forbid.
I wanted to cover up and hide that moon-white epidermis. So, I’ve never had any worries of being accused of being a fashionista. It could never happen.
For one thing, I’m more familiar with flats than fashion and minivans than makeup. So, it shouldn’t be any surprise that when I wore (what I thought were) my “cute” kitten heels to work and told my friend Cristy, “Look I’m dressed up—and even wearing heels.” She laughed a little and said those aren’t high heels.
They're more like training (w)heels. So, now I’ll be known as the old lady who wears training heels around the office but maybe that’s better than flats, don’t ask me. I’m no authority. In fact, I’m a little surprised I’ve never been turned into WHAT NOT TO WEAR. The fashion police could have a field day in my closet. And, I could definitely be in the running for a Mom Gone Wrong segment.
And, like I said, “I definitely have no fear of ever being labeled a fashionista.” I’m just hoping I don’t hit a bump in the rode, when I’m walking, and fall over on my training (w)heels.
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