I Want to Wear Dad's T-Shirts to Bed Again

When Amy and I were little, we didn't have pajamas. Instead, we raided Mom and Dad's dresser for a t-shirt that we slipped over our heads, and found ourselves wormed through an arm hole by morning. There was one particular, a green, red, and white striped one that said Pepsi across the front that was soft and comfy.

I'm supposed to be putting away my wardrobe, and it's awful. I'm going through one of those "I-hate-everything-I-own" phases.

The fashion industry talks about "spring fashions" and "summer fashions" and things change each season...every. single. year.

I'm still wearing clothes that I had in 2004 when I moved to Utah. Heck, I think I have a thing or two that I still wear normally that I had in high school. I don't even have a "warm weather" and "cold weather" wardrobe. I just have my wardrobe... and I hope that I slim down enough with swimming and walking in the warmer weather, that it isn't necessary to cover everything up with a jacket. My cardigans, I have to keep in circulation, because even though it's going to be 100 degrees, I have to keep my shoulders covered. (Unless I'm in the car. I refuse to be modest while driving in a car with no air conditioning in the heat.)

Life is so much simpler when you can wear your parents' t-shirts as pajamas. Most of my clothes back then came in the form of my cousins' hand-me-downs, or as finds from my Grandma Armstrong's garage selling days. If we hated what we were wearing, it didn't matter. We grow like weeds as kids, and we really will only have to wear in for one season before we are too big for those 80s patterned bicycle shorts.

I have a sneaky suspicion that my dad dressed us this day... that's the only way I can explain the tucked in shirts.

I'd place a fairly large wager on the fact that none of our outfits were purchased new. Probably all  of them are Grandma Armstrong "finds". I particularly love the dinosaur shirt with suspenders that I'm sporting.

Fat: We don't deal with those kind of people

I was flipping through channels last night waiting for a phone call and saw this most recent episode of What Would You Do? It's an interesting hidden camera program that puts people in really awkward positions and films how they would react. For example, the clip above, showing a hoity-toity boutique in New Jersey where the sales lady is being really rude and offensive to a size 14 girl. The sales lady and the girl are actors, and so is the size 4 best friend, but the customers are real and their reactions are very real.

The first lady that they showed who walked over and said, "I'm a customer, but if you come with me, I'll show you some lovely things..." I just loved her. By the end of the three minute segment, she was in tears because she was so angry on behalf of a complete stranger.

I think it hit me even more because I've been in this situation. I was at Nordstrom Rack near Salt Lake, and had quickly noted that there was nothing in my size. So I went rack to rack looking for my sister, who is much smaller than me, and was approached by an employee who simply said, "You won't find anything here for you." She said it with such a tone of disgust and superiority that my whole face flushed in embarrassment and my whole body shook with indignation. I was too humiliated to speak, but I think I managed an apologetic, "I'm not looking for me." She sniffed and walked away and the whole time I just wished I had told her off. I quickly found my sister and hid behind her the remaining tour of the store.

What would I have done if someone had overheard and actually stood up for me? What if I had stood up for myself? I guess I will never really know.

There are times when I enter a new store that I would like to save myself the embarrassment altogether and walk straight up to a clerk and ask, "Do you carry this size?" And if not, walk right out if they say no. I have never had the gumption to do it, and normally just stick to shopping where I know I can find something to try on.

At the beginning of this segment, the narrator talks about how fashion caters to the smaller sizes and for the average American woman, it's hard to keep up and be fashion forward. That much is true. I always say that I would dress much differently if I were smaller (and wealthier), because the things I like vs. the things that are available in my size are very different. I pretty much hate my entire wardrobe. But in the end, as a consumer -- while we are supposed to wield the power with supply and demand -- we have to purchase the things that are available to us. This means a lot of ugly prints, stupid sayings, and more polyester than should ever be legal. It's not like we can walk around naked in protest... Although, maybe we should?

My Red Shoes

I found what would have been the perfect pair of red shoes today. I have been looking for a pair of red heels for a while now; I know exactly what I want, but I haven't been able to find them. Today, I found them! Only, they were half a size too small.

Trust me, I wore them around the store for half an hour hoping that they would magically work, but by the end, I just couldn't get them. They were too small.

Dang it!

These perfect red shoes are a subtle glitter, cranberry color. They are pointy-toed and a slingback. They have kitten heels.

I want them! I need them! Stupid Ross! If only they had had just a half size bigger!

If anybody comes across a size 8.5 pair of Etienne Aigner red shoes, described above, please let me know!

Modest Extremism

Take a minute to look at this photo.

What do you see? What do you feel? If you are a man, are you stirred to inappropriate feelings because the "skinny jeans" are too tight? If you are a woman, are you rolling your eyes at the lack of tact and dignity presented by these clothes? Are you offended by this outfit in anyway?

No?...
...Really? ...

Why not?

I'd like to venture a guess. I'd say it is probably because there is nothing wrong about this outfit. There is nothing immodest about it. It's probably because your thoughts don't immediately turn to wayward, inappropriate thoughts at the sight of a cute, fully-clothed female. And oh, also, because those aren't skinny jeans.

Unfortunately, we live in a world where extremism is all over the place and I would argue, especially within our culture. I attended BYU and saw extremism all the time on campus, but never did it reach the heightened proportions that I have discovered and heard about as is found on the campus of BYU-I. Why is it that people feel it necessary to call out others in self-righteous judgment? Why do these people always land jobs in the testing center? It's so strange to me. The story goes: The girl in the above photo met with her bishop for her calling then headed over to the testing center in the same outfit and was turned away because her pants were "too tight". Now, BYU and BYU-I both have a dress code that limits the clothes you can wear on campus. Mostly they are the obvious: no bare midriffs, no butt cheeks hanging out your shorts. No sleeveless shirts, etc. But from what I can tell, there is nothing too "form-fitting" or again, immodest about this outfit.

If it were me, I'd be outraged.

The whole story can be found in this article here. I'd like to point out my favorite part: the flier.

A flyer was posted by university employees instructing students who felt that “skinny jeans” might be permissible to “go home and prayerfully visit with your Heavenly Father and recommit yourself to being a true disciple.”

Er...

It should be noted, that according to the article I linked to above, the flyer was removed a few days later and the school made a statement on their Facebook page that said, "

Wondering if skinny jeans are allowed on campus? They are. BYU-Idaho's longstanding dress & grooming standards promote principles of modesty and restrict formfitting clothing, but skinny jeans are not singled out or prohibited. In addition, the Testing Center issue reported in Scroll has been corrected and is no longer in force.

 ABC News also posted an article on the whole thing. They didn't really find students that had flattering things to say. While generally, I do not think that the dress code at BYU or BYU-I is "ridiculous" as the student quoted said, I do think that there are some who take it to extremes. From what I've read, mostly it stems from guys who probably think that girls at school should be dressed in a shapeless muumuu worn down to our ankles, not to be completely confused with a burqa. (I personally think that these guys need to go talk to their bishops about their porn addictions, because let's get real for a second: if you are completely turned on by the "shape of a girls leg", then you probably have some dirtier things going through your head, stemming from activities taking place in your bedroom. Just sayin'.)

The argument is modesty.

In junior high I owned two tanks tops that I wore to school. They had straps that were at least four or five inches thick and showed *gasp*shock* my shoulders, but that was all. I attended a broadcast with my mom, and the president of the church announced a new For the Strength of Youth pamphlet that encouraged us to not get that second pair of earrings that I had been working up my nerve to ask my mom for, and to not wear any item of clothing that was sleeveless.

Oh the arguments that I put forth! The sarcastic and belligerent comments I made towards my SHOULDER being put down as an object of lust! I hated it! Absolutely. My mom talked me down, told me that showing a little bit of obedience was more important than putting on display of my shoulder. Etc. etc. And for the most part, I have lived without that second pair of earrings. I have worn the Shade and the Downeast tops and put shrugs and cardigans to cover my shoulders. My shorts are all knee length. For a long time, my dresses and skirts were at my ankles. (Now... they might be quite a bit shorter, but in general, are still "modest".) I have no problem with modesty and the general dress code with which we are asked to adhere to. My problem is with those that turn it in to an extremist movement.

One of the quotes from the aforementioned article was from this blog. She talked about a specific Friend article involving a disappointed four year old and her grandmother's gift of a spaghetti strap dress. And she left with this thought,

I don’t want my daughters equating “modesty” with how much skin they choose to reveal or to cover. Sure, I’d like them to be modest, but modesty encompasses so much more than how much leg or cleavage or, okay, shoulder you reveal. Modesty is about attitude, demeanor, dispositions. It’s about moderation. It’s about avoiding extremes. It’s about feeling comfortable in your own skin.

I think that is the principle with which we should judge on what we choose to clothe our bodies with. For those of us not wearing garments, I know we should keep in mind that one day we will be wearing them, and shouldn't need to have to buy a whole new wardrobe for when we do. However, thinking that we need to dress in pioneer dresses or feed sacks is not the answer. And judging girls who choose to be a little more trendy, or whatever, is not up to us.

Vest Prophecy

When we were little kids, my Grandma Armstrong used to bring us bags and bags of clothes that she would pick up on her weekly garage sale hunting. As younger kids, we looked forward to these bags of "new" clothes with excitement. One never knew exactly what Grandma would find. But as we got older and more self-conscious about what we were wearing and worse, where it came from, we started to be more picky and less grateful for the trash bags of treasures.

My grandma was very crafty. She wore shoes and vests and hats that she had puff-painted and had scads of buttons on everything. One of the things that she seemed to find for me at the garage sales were vests. Lots of vests! I remember particularly the ones that looked as though they had been quilted together and had buttons and bows and such.

My dad told us that if we didn't appreciate the items Grandma gave us, then we had to tell her ourselves. So one particular visit to Lexington, I told her. "Grandma, I do not like vests."

She made me try on her newest find anyway.

"I won't wear this," I said. "I really do not like vests."

And then she made a prophecy that I cringed at.

"You've just got to find the right one," she said, taking the vest from my arms and draping it over the recliner in her bedroom.

I didn't believe her. I swore never to wear a vest again.

I think about that conversation with my grandma every time I put on the black vest I like so much. It is drape-y and forgiving, and kind of cool. And I got it for less than $5. I think Grandma would be proud - although, she probably would have haggled down the price to 50 cents. I thought about it again when this past weekend I found a sheer, crocheted top and flow-y, tiered looking vest that I just had to have. I think it is one of my favorite purchases in a while. Although, I paid more than Grandma would have ever paid for it.

Grandma was right though. It just took the right vest - and for vests to come back in style - before I went against my vow to never put one on again. Who knew that she was a prophetess?