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No Friends in High School May 9, 2013

No Friends in High School

When I was younger and larger, I remember going into Hollister once to look for jeans. I asked if they carried size 14. The girl article-1265986-09224A45000005DC-888_233x404working there looked at me like I was crazy and said no. I left the  store nearly in tears.

I was too fat for Hollister. I was too fat for a lot of things, but whose fault was that? Pretty much my own. I was upset that they didn’t cater to my size, but I also was aware that if I were healthy  I wouldn’t be facing the problem.

I can fit their stuff now, but I choose not to shop there. Mainly because I’m not in college anymore, and I think at my age you must have a child with you when you shop.

So today Abercrombie has been all over my Facebook feed because of how he feels about the fat, unpopular, poor, and unattractive.

I took one look at this guy and laughed. Seriously, bro, you’re a JOKE. I mean, call me out if I’m wrong, but his profound quotes obviously belong to someone who is still harboring the shame of not belonging. Get over it. You couldn’t sit with us at the lunch table then, and you still can’t now. One would assume that as an adult he would strive to NOT make teenagers feel like they are misfits, you know with all the bullying and teen suicides, but what do I know? I’m just someone’s mother.

I get the whole exclusivity theory. Sort of. I like owning things that others don’t. Which is why a lot of my favorite items are purchased at antique shops and thrift stores. I don’t buy original stuff cause people can’t fit or afford to buy them, I buy original items because I AM ORIGINAL.

Here’s a piece of advice to someone, obviously friendless who is targeting teenagers and college students:

Market originality, not exclusivity. 

Nothing you have in your store is special, because it smells of the morning after shame of a fraternity party, and you can still hear Abercrombie’s ridiculous music coming off of your $60 henley shirts thirty minutes after leaving. And another thing, there’s nothing original or exciting about being a jerk. Nobody likes them.

This whole thing about burning your clothes instead of donating because you’re too high-class for the poor shows exactly how much class you and your brand have. Hats off, really. That is by far the classiest thing I have ever heard. I promise you, people without clothes aren’t jumping up and down because of the brand they are getting. They are usually just happy cause they have something suitable to wear for school, work, etc.mike-jeffries-scumbag

I will say that in the late 90’s and early 2000’s I was one of those ‘cool kids’ that decorated my walls with Abercrombie shopping bags. My parents refused to spend a ton of money there, so I always left with this oversized bag of two sweaty people making out, with one clearance item inside. Whatever, I was a teenager. I still have a pair of size 12 Abercrombie jeans from back then with a button fly. I kept them for sentimental reasons.

Now that I think of it, I may burn them. They’re too big now anyways.

By the way, Mike Jeffries, I haven’t gotten to say it yet, but you’re a dick. Way to design a brand  around someone who obviously doesn’t deserve to socialize among anyone, no matter how ‘cool and attractive’ they are.  So please get over whatever happened to you when you were younger, and stop thinking that your little clothing store is impervious to the economy. Real adults will take their kids shopping elsewhere, and the rest of us have outgrown (mentally, not physically)  your overpriced, cologne-laced tiny shorts anyways.


Control YOUR KID March 22, 2013


Parents, have you ever heard those words, or thought them?

I have thought them a million times, but have only actually said it aloud once, to a girl I used to know whose kid was a demon. I’m not going to spend a paragraph or two explaining why, because I could with a story or seven that will prove such. I’ll just say that I’ve seen a tantrum that I had to tell all of my parent friends about because I became speechless by the insanity that I saw.  I saw it over a year ago, and I still remember it like it was ten minutes ago. But then again I can’t really say much because I threw tantrums forever.

I spent a lot of time babysitting when I was growing up, so before I actually became a mother I could somewhat understand children’s moods.  Before the baby came along though, Randy and I made a solemn promise that if Blake started to act a fool in public, we would scoop him up and get the hell out. We have both silently judged screaming babies in public enough to know that it’s not a good experience for the baby, parent, and onlookers.

If anyone has had the pleasure of meeting our bundle of joy, you would know that his temperament is that of his fathers. He smiles and hugs often, and is only fussy when it’s time for him to take a nap. He wakes up and is our smiling baby again, and we continue our lives of parents that get sleep and don’t have to deal with a baby that cries for hours. (knock on wood)

This morning I was in Target with Blake, enjoying a morning of buying things that I don’t need and letting people tell me how attractive he is. It’s funny because when I go now, I have to look nice because people always look at him. Everyone looks at babies, especially when they smile back, and I don’t want to shame my son by wearing a Chelsea Houska outfit and having my fro askew.

We are in the shoe clearance aisle, trying to find a new pair of shoes to sneak in the house and Blake was very talkative. I always encourage his babbling, so I’m playing along. He gets excited and shrieks really loud.

That’s when I heard those three words. On the other side, a teenage girl says “Oh my god, control your f-ing kid.” I froze. Then without thinking I wheeled my happy baby to the aisle to see who would even consider to say those words about MY perfect child.

Every parent thinks their kid is perfect. If the kid is bad, the parent usually says something like, “he/she is really smart and gets bored easy.” “he/she is just expressing themselves.” Yeah, right. Expressing yourself has nothing to do with knocking over store displays, or being a six-year-old that still bites and refuses to listen when an adult speaks. I’m sure that unless a friend stages  an intervention, I could be that parent that refuses to see that my child is out of control, I just hope it never happens. Until then, I raise my eyebrows when I see a child that’s too old for running, knocking over things, or screaming in public.

You can imagine the surprise when the two girls see me facing them in the shoe aisle. They appear startled, embarrassed, and completely unprepared for what was to happen next. I’m sure they would have gone running if I hadn’t blocked them in with my smiling baby and shopping cart.

“Actually, my ‘kid’ is a seven month old baby, and this is how he communicates when he gets excited, because he doesn’t speak English yet. So before you say to control my f-ing kid, maybe you should control your mouth.”

Silence. Staring. Then I push my cart with my still smiling and babbling child past them.

Yeah, I sound big and bad telling off a couple of rude teenagers, right? Not my finest moment, I will admit. I guess I’m a bit protective. Hopefully I’ll outgrow that when the fat kid on the playground  that reeks of oatmeal knocks him over.


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