Me And My Chuck Taylors

I am a book who feels judged by her cover. Of course, a little shock value can be fun.

I live near some affluent neighborhoods in the South. In the middle of the Bible Belt. When I go to a grocery store or Target or the wherever, I notice that all the women around my age seem the same in some way. There are only little differences. Some drive luxury cars, Hummers or SUVs, some with DVD monitors in the back seat. But most of their kids drive cars more expensive than mine. They all have one of three haircuts: a bob, a Florence Henderson shag, or some cut flipped up on the ends. My hair is just long and dark brown. I don’t feel out of place — after all, I can afford to shop in the same store. And sometimes I get second looks because of the way I dress. You have probably figured out that it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I like that I stand out, and maybe challenge people to think. I try to be friendly and polite, no matter what I’m wearing, but sometimes people are actually surprised if I say “have a nice day” as I leave.

I was always pretty conservative growing up, fashion-wise. But my mom doesn’t buy my clothes now, and I know what to wear to work or dinner with someone important. Otherwise, I wear what reflects my mood. Every now and then, I’ll see one of my “sisters” – a confident, sexy woman in a smart-ass T-shirt or tight dress, her makeup done, her nails polished, walking the walk of someone who’s been there and done that. And sometimes our eyes will meet. We might share a knowing smile.

I don’t wear tan or beige capris, or Mom jeans, or polo shirts. I don’t support a college football team on my shirt. I have a lot of black rock Ts, tank tops, shorts, and low slung jeans. I own three pair of Converse basketball shoes, and one pair of knock-offs . Most people know these shoes as “Chucks” and where I live, most women over 20 don’t wear them. But their kids do. I must so look immature! Immature and comfortable, dressing like some skatepunk.

Don’t get me wrong… I love feminine clothes. Anything that shows my shape is even better. But if it happens to have a skull or a band name across the front, so what? I love music. I’ve been known to put on a skirt with high heels and actually shock people with the fact that I have pretty nice legs. I absolutely love boots. I am a woman, after all.. And I don’t want to look like my mother or a Sunday school teacher. I just don’t go to that kind of effort all the time, but I clean up nice. I’ll admit it: I want to be a sexy older woman. A MILF. What’s wrong with that? I’m married, but I haven’t given up on looking good. Hopefully my husband will notice at some point (just a little joke)…

I didn’t want to cut my hair and add ten years to my appearance when I turned 35 because someone said I “should.”  Nor do I tan every day. I am not leathery and fake, wrinkly fingers covered in rings, wearing white tennis shoes that will never play tennis. I don’t wear a gold chain with my sweatshirt. I don’t belong to a middle-age, Oprah-watching, one donut-too-many, hair flipping, SUV-driving demographic. I am thankful every time I see these Stepford wives. Blankly going through life with a football magnet on their big white Navigator. I thank God I didn’t grow up to be them.

I am lucky I have no laugh lines or wrinkles, so I look young for my age. Why not just enjoy it? I could put a blue streak in my hair or go more extreme than a nose piercing. But that tiny nose piercing got many disapproving looks the last time I was interviewing for jobs. Really, how could my resume mean anything in the face of such rebellion? Such disregard for authority? Over twenty years of steady work doesn’t measure character like choosing to pierce your nose. Disgraceful!

I wish I could work in a tattoo parlor, where no one looks twice at anything. Because where we live, dressing different makes a big statement, and sometimes not the one you want. My son went through it in school. His ears are pierced. Big deal. One teacher, frustrated because I would not make him remove them (hell, I bought them!) called his silver studs “borderline defiance.” We both laughed. A cool band name, maybe. But earrings and hair seem like small matters to me in the face of his Crohn’s disease, being isolated from his peers, doctor visits and all the really heavy issues he faces.

His longer hair, baggy jeans (Crohn’s patients are skinny!) and black T-shirts advertising The Doors or A Perfect Circle set him apart at his high school. A couple of kids talked to him about going to church, but he was also harassed and called a Satan worshiper. This coming from the “Christian” kids. I’m sure if they knew, it would bring a lot of pride to their parents… those are the people looking at me funny.