I am my mother
I caught myself spit-shining the face of my granddaughter today. I am my mother.
And the other day I saw some high school aged girls out at a restaurant and thought a couple of them could use about five more inches on the hem of their skirts and I do believe they forgot to change out of their full slips on top. (Now there's a memory for you…"full slips", which were worn over bras and at least in the case of our mothers,over GIRDLES and NYLONS!!!) Anyway, I had second thoughts about these girls after going WAY back to my 60's and recalling what we used to wear. The skirts left almost nothing to the imagination, and the platform shoes worn with them only accentuated the theme. And if we were really feeling "with the times," we'd go braless, which would explain why there were more black eyes and upper body stretch marks during that era. And I can't recall the name for one item of attire that is just the most ludicrous thing when I think about it now, but it consisted of a giant toe ring of sorts, and extending from it was a brown leather strap that extended around the foot and over the ankle area. There was no sole, for God's sake, just a ring with a leather band around that came full circle around the ankle and we wore them for shoes, actually walking in public places, among the spit and dog crap and God only knows what else. And we never complained of the 120 degree asphalt beneath our "bare" feet. But we did it in the name of "cool." They were just TOO cool, as was the black-black eyeliner and the sky-blue shadow and the go-go boots, when protection of the soles was merited or when the elements insisted. And the giant brush "curlers" that we actually didn't mind wearing downtown to shop around. As I recall, they were kind of a status thing. Wearing them into town on a Saturday afternoon told everyone that you must have a special date Saturday night! If I saw someone today in town with those metal things all wired to their head, I believe I'd call 911.
What I'd give to have those braless, 12" long skirt, soles-of-my-feet burning days back! Only, the old body would have to come with the deal.
I'm thinking that turning into my mother might not be such a bad thing
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I don't recall having to draw lines for seams, but that was probably only because MY siblings "borrowed" all my markers! So, I was the bare legged one with the garter belt elastic straps dangling with nothing attached!! And we call them "good old days!"
Seeing as how there were five (count 'em FIVE) teenaged girls in the house at one time and seeing as how they all were endowed enough (though not amply) to each require the wearing of a brassiere, and having determined that each required an identification of some degree to distinguish one's bra from another's,(so as not to incite a brawl should a certain bra end up in the not-so-rightful owner's drawer), this resourceful mother of mine proceeded one day to label each, so as not to "mix them up." And what better way than to "stamp" them with the already produced egg carton labeling stamps. From extra large to small, we each received a distinguishing stamp. I am grateful to this day that I wasn't labeled, "Pullet." True story. Could I possibly make this up?
No bra burning for me..are you kidding?... that would have meant my mother would have had to buy me another one and used her jumbo or cracked or worse, the pullet stamp again. Didn't want to chance it! I think I did actually burn a few old ones in the burning barrell back by the apple orchard, but it was only because there were not others to hand them down to and I (finally) outgrew them...does that constitute the making of a rebel of the 60's? I don't think anyone was watching, and as I recall, they went up in smoke with a few empty Old Gold packs and a Herman's Hermits record...oh, my, I think I WAS a rebel!