Middle Aged Frumpy Hell

We left the house in a rainstorm to stock up on necessities like a pair of pants from Uniqlo. These are necessary as I discovered this morning that one of the two pairs of pants Me First owns that aren’t too small had a sizable hole in the back pocket. In true Laura Ingles pioneer spirit waste-not-want not fashion, I was going to patch them. Then I discovered a new hole in the knee when he came home.


One patch is frugal couture, two is a different story. Flashback to 1985 and me wearing patched pink stirrup pants for an entire year because we couldn’t afford new clothes mid-year, throw in the shame of having to buy reduced lunch tickets in the gym in front of the entire junior high student body circa 1990, fast forward through six years of only eating lunch once a week, and it’s off to Uniqlo it is then.

I’m middle aged frump today, old bootcut jeans, an ill fitting sweater, frizzy hair that hasn’t been washed recently with two kids bickering every step of the way.

Hamakko sexy I’m not.

Of course today is the day I run into several people I haven’t seen in years, and they look fanfackingtastic in spite ofthe fact that one is a single mother working at a minimum wage job and the other moved home to her parents after having a stillbirth three years ago.

Made me feel like a fat, lazy slob. But I am happy they seemed to be doing so great. Beat the odds, Ladies.


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