We went to school for registration tonight, and sat through all the boring stuff, like listening to how the kids need to come to school, then STAY in school (as in, don't leave for Starbucks after your parents drop you off), and how to behave while you're there. And yes, they did the whole dress code spiel: keep your pants pulled up, wear a belt, wear your lanyard, or we'll send you to detention/send you home/call your mommy/etc. (which never happens). Mr. Ballard did his yearly "we're getting you ready for the real world, where you will have to be on time, and wear what they tell you to wear" lecture.
And then we walked out of the room. Walking directly in front of us was someone's daughter who, on this evening, elected to leave home wearing skin tight low rise leggings and a cut off handkerchief hem off the shoulder top. Yeah. Girlfriend was rockin a full tilt street hoe look, right there in the halls of the school Now,I don't care if you dress in vintage, camo, hip hop or basketball shorts. I don't care if you rock a look that's punk, goth, indie, hip hop, or steampunk. Pants are simply not optional in my world.
I know that many people think that the downfall of the world started years ago when women got the vote. Maybe you think it all started when women got jobs, or took the pill, or burned their bras. Heck, maybe you even think it's as simple as when women stopped wearing dresses every day and started wearing pants. Yes, I can remember the days when girls had to wear dresses to school, and even I must say I miss those days, to a certain extent. Some were scandalized that girls were being trained to wear pants, but we did it anyway.
It's no real surprise to anyone that I love the early 50s look, when women were women, and foundation garments were as pretty as what you wore on top of them, and functioned as a strange form of armor. Despite that, I'm sure that I'm not the only woman who is glad that we have pantyhose nowadays, versus fighting with garter belts and girdles. I like a nice comfortable pair of jeans, but am annoyed that now they make them so long, for the girls who rock stilettos with them, and I actually have to hem them, instead of wearing them off the rack. I'm 5'6 1/2" for heaven's sake. I haven't had to hem pants since the seventh grade, but I do it anyway. But that is an annoyance that one has to deal with when one wears pants.
But at least I wear pants. I don't go out in yoga pants, though I will wear them around the house. I wear pajama pants, but let me clarify a bit: pajama pants are not pants. They are pajamas. They are not to be worn to the grocery store, Target, or anywhere where there is not a bed within about ten feet. Girls who do this -- because guys do NOT do this -- make me sad.
And so it is that we return to Seth's school, home of the aforementioned girl, pantsless, at orientation, where I pointed out to Seth that he had best not EVER bring home a girl like that to me, unless all hope of his mother filtering her speech will be lost, the minute I lay eyes on a specimen lik that. Because, as I told him, we have standards, especially for anyone he would choose to bring into our fold. They aren't terrigly high standards, because I am a pretty laid back person, but one of those standards is -- wait for it -- PANTS. I pointed out to him that his sister has gauged Seth's past girlfriends by how scared of her they are, and that Jill would relish the chance to scare off a skanky pantsless girl. It'd bring a whole new meaning to a hoe down.
I think he gets the point.
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