What I should not be wearing according to the 'experts'

Whilst procrastinating on some design work one evening, I came across an article that outlined what I was too old to wear concerning certain wardrobe trends. I had to wonder if they polled 10- to 20-somethings for this piece, or if the fashion consultants were just dishing their own judgments based on the average shelf life of most models/actors, because apparently I am too old to wear anything fashionable or funny. Even if the clothes look great on me, I shouldn’t wear them or I risk looking like I raided my daughter’s closet; and it seems the older I get, the more confused I will become when it comes to dressing appropriately for my age so the experts felt that I, as well as other women my age, need age-forward, fashion guidelines.


As I flipped my closet upside down, a pang of “Springer’s guilt” shot through me when I accounted for more than half of my wardrobe being filled with these “age-inappropriate” items. I dug up a few message t-shirts, a denim mini-skirt and several pairs of destroyed jeans. I wasn’t aware that there is a time limit in which each generation can express themselves via their wardrobe, and it was time to retire my “RUN DMC” and “I’m with the band” shirts as well as most of my jeans that were not a conservative dark color or had more than the three allowed holes in them. I also counted 20 pair of heels in varying heights and designs that just aren’t practical for mature women. Also, mixed into my rather extensive and inconsistent wardrobe were several cleavage baring tank tops, an over-sized hobo bag I use to carry my laptop in and a single pair of thigh high, black latex boots. My closet was a violation of the ten commandments of what not to wear at my age:

1. Thou shalt not message the public via your wardrobe (i.e. message t’s)

2. Thou shalt not don denim that is destroyed or in any style or color other than conservative

3. Thou shalt not walk in shoes that belongeth on younger looking legs

4. Thou shalt not don skirts shorter than 2” above knobby knees

5. Thou shalt not showeth off any amount of cleavage, even if it has been purchased

6. Thou shalt not give the public a glimpse of any amount of mid-riff

7. Thou shalt not adorn thy hair with embellished trinkets found in trendy stores

8. Thou shalt not sporteth the oversized, overly bedazzled hobo bag after the age of 25

9. Thou shalt not weareth cheap underthings in unflattering cuts and designs

10. Thou shalt not accessorize out of thy daughter’s favorite stores

Basically, anything the quad of age-confused, chicks from Sex and the City is seen wearing in any given episode and most of what young and age-confused Hollywood debuts on the red carpet is out when you live in the real world. Funny thing is I don’t really pay attention to red carpet fashion and I’ve never watched S&theC, just the movies (on accident) and even I thought they all looked ridiculously over dressed and desperate; which is what the contents of my closet were telling me when I compared them to what was blacklisted in the article. It’s not like I wear it all at once, I mix and match and tailor what I’m wearing to where I’m going and who I might be in front of – you know, so I don’t look desperate.

I think part of dressing smart is dressing the part, it doesn’t necessarily mean you have to dress according to what the so-called experts say is appropriate for your age. If that were the case, I’d be wearing elastic-waist pants and straight hip, solid, pastel color t-shirts and super thick, short heels. Yeah, so not doing that. Maybe my wardrobe needs an update, retiring certain items that are older than the boyfriend, but I most definitely do not need to be dressing like I’m retired from life. That said, just the other day, I was in Wal-Mart (which is where you’re more apt to see things that defy the laws of reason) and noticed a woman who was definitely not young enough to be wearing the outfit she had on: filly tennis skirt, leggings underneath, tank top, ginormous earrings and gladiator sandals. I can’t defend someone who looks like she’s trying to regain her youth through her middle-school daughter’s closet. She reminded me of an old, silver-haired woman who used to come into the store in the mall where I worked (years ago) wearing a mini-skirt, tank top and heels. Bless her heart; she had so many wrinkles it looked like she was wearing an over-sized hose body suit (not to mention the enormous amount of make-up that made her look like a clown). I swore I would never be that woman and that when it came time to retire my cool clothes, I’ll do so with dignity – and move to a nudist colony so I won’t have to wear scrubs for clothes. Kidding.

I live by the motto: just because you can (wear it, do it, say it, flaunt it), doesn’t mean you should. While I went on a tirade about the article I read concerning what I shouldn’t be wearing at my age, I understand what these so-called experts were trying to say: the same motto I try to live by. If there weren’t women committing fashion offenses like the Wal-Mart Maven and Tranny Granny … well, the fashion experts would find something else just as relevant to write about.

Miracle Whip facial

I have a good handle on my flubber. Not a lot of chicks can say that with a straight face or looking anyone directly in the eyes, but I can. However, I’ve recently noticed the once youthful, dewy look to my skin has faded into a, don’t-get-enough-fluids, matte-like, aged-to-imperfect sheen. I’ve been so busy working the other angles of my look, like my hair and make-up and updating my wardrobe to stay current, that I’ve forgotten that you can’t cover old with new. It kind of has to grow together. And there’s nothing like putting on foundation only to have it dry into a chalky look on your face or being able to pinch your skin and it not snapping back.


So, I’ve taken to drinking a lot of water lately. Well, a lot of flavored water because I don’t like the un-taste of bottled water and I’m not particularly fond of the slight chemical taste of tap water (I’m convinced chemicals are added to the city water supply). Along with hydrating my insides, I’ve taken to slathering on insane amounts of lotion and baby oil to keep my skin soft and – a big part of my regimen is exfoliating my entire body in the shower. I read somewhere that exfoliating the dead skin from your body will keep pores from clogging and break outs from happening, keeping your skin in top condition.

Something else I read was that using Miracle Whip is a non-abrasive way to exfoliate the skin on your face. Reading is how all my misadventures and experiments seem to start. But, this time, I didn’t burn my face off. Turns out, Miracle Whip does exactly what the experts say it will without any adverse affects. That is, unless you think smelling like a sandwich as a bad thing. The at-home, what I like to call ‘mini-peel’ recipe calls for a modest amount of Miracle Whip to be applied evenly over the face and neck. After 10 minutes, wipe it off with a damp washcloth – supposedly, you will see the dead skin flaking off your face. I didn’t. What I did see was my face looking shiny and red, as if I had just taken a laser to it. I had to wonder - if this is what Miracle Whip does to my face, what’s it doing to my insides? I’m pretty sure the lining on my stomach shouldn’t be thinned in anyway.

The smoothing effects of the mayo last about a week before you need to do it again. I’ve done it twice, the second time was witnessed by the boyfriend who, of course, took to making the necessary mayo jokes. That was before he admitted to experimenting with the Miracle Whip on his day off – you know, to promote healthy skin. I wasn’t expecting to hear that, so I asked him what the experience was like for him.

“It made me hungry.”

Typical. He didn’t leave it on the full ten minutes and didn’t really see any improvement with his skin tone. Then again, he hadn’t shaved his whiskers and he spent the ten minutes in a steamy shower, so I’m thinking he just didn’t do it right.

One time, last summer, I went for the tan lines ...

Tan lines are an unnecessary and avoidable failure in skin grooming that man has convinced the more impressionable female population into thinking are sexy based what they’ve grown accustomed to from watching porn. I’ve never liked tan lines; all they do is call attention to the problem areas of my body (read, tits and ass) that I dress up with clothes and lingerie. I’m a lot less impressionable. Nothing is less sexy to me than being in an intimate situation with dimmed lights and noticing my less than perfect, been through pregnancy, boobs and butt are glowing neon-white in the dark. So, if I’m going to tan, I’m going to tan all-over. That’s why man invented tanning beds. Skin cancer warnings aside, if I’m going to get the disease, it’s not going to be from tanning in patches – I’m going out with a bang-up, awesome, all-over tan that rivals that of any professional adult model, actor or dancer.


On a whole, though, I don’t care to be tan. Since the birth of The Daughter, 13 years ago, I sustained a massive amount of stretch marks from “eating for two” which have since turned white. Stretch marks do not tan. Tanning only magnifies the white lines that have made my lower abdomen their home (forever, unless the day someone comes up with a tummy tuck procedure that doesn’t leave a scar). When I’m white, it all blends. So, when you see me at the beach, covered head to toe with a floppy hat, long skirt and linen shirt, looking like a walking ad for a feminine hygiene product, it’s not because I’m worried about prematurely shriveling like a raisin. I’m just making sure my body is a consistent, pasty olive tone to camouflage my stretch marks so the lights can be on during intimate moments.

Saying that, sometimes when you’re dating someone, you do things that you normally wouldn’t do just to impress or prove you’re flexible on what you’re willing to do to remain a sexy chick in their eyes. It’s like when you all of a sudden stock up on the hottest thongs, even though you don’t like the feel of floss chafing your crack. Do not even pretend for a minute any one of you hasn’t reinvented your wardrobe to include items that you know your “crush” specifically likes. It’s all part of the ‘mating’ game. I’ve been guilty of taken taking it one step further – I don’t do anything halfway.

My boyfriend, like most men, digs a good, pornstar-style tanline. It was one of the first things I learned about him in the beginning months of dating.

“It’s like being able to see something I am not supposed to be seeing and that’s sexy,” he said. Like invisible lingerie. Note that if I’m showing my goodies to you, you’re definitely supposed to be seeing them. And sporting tan lines aren’t an attempt by me to hide any of that – real panties and a bra would be.

That was in the same conversation where I learned about his fascination with big, juicy, Brazilian booty and his infatuation with Flower Tucci, an adult film star who possessed an ass (and just her ass) that measured in at a magnificent 47 inches – that was intimidating. If my ass ever got that big, the rest of me would be just as big, and I guarantee my boyfriend would not like that as much as what he has now, because with strategic wardrobe choices, I have made him believe that I have a phat ass and decent cleavage.

But getting back to the tan lines …

The Boyfriend is in the military and he goes away for a few weeks at a time, camping with his co-workers. One summer, when he was going to be camping for longer than two weeks, I decided I would surprise him with tan lines. But, I didn’t want to pay for the daily visits to the salon d’tan because a) at $7 a pop, it gets expensive and I had bills to pay that contributed to keeping a roof over my head and my utilities on and b) the teenage girls that work there always make me feel like I’m not young enough to be in an establishment they clearly attributed to others their own age and hot men (who may or may not be gay or men dating older women like me). Spray tanning was not an option, I didn’t like smelling like a bag of chips. So, I donned my trusty bikini and started laying out at my friend’s apartment pool every day. After a week, I noticed I had a definite tan line around the bikini I had chosen to wear, which had full butt coverage. What anyone would find sexy about a big, white butt is beyond me. Which got me thinking, am I doing this right? Who cares, my boyfriend likes it and that’s all that matters.

Later that week, friends had a pool party and I went – this time wearing a boy short two-piece. I was skeptical at first, because I didn’t want mismatching tan lines. But I did it anyway because there were going to be a lot of people there who probably didn’t want to see my stretch marks. By the end of the day, even though I was purposely avoiding the sun, I noticed that I still caught enough sun to bake another set of tan lines over the ones I already had. Now, the coverage area of my bottoms had spread and, I imagine, only made my butt look bigger. This called for some corrective tanning techniques. That meant I was going to have to pay for tanning sessions to try and even out the color.

Don’t ever do this. It’s not like the rest of you will automatically not tan because it knows what you’re doing. The dark gets darker and the light doesn’t catch up that fast. At the end of the first week and a half, I had two different tan lines and enough color on my tummy to magnify the legion of stretch marks I didn’t want attention called to. To make matters worse, I decided to join friends at the beach the following weekend and chose to wear a one-piece suit. By the time my boyfriend came back from his camping trip, I had almost impressively collected three separate tan lines – including a line from the tag on one of my bottoms that I didn’t tuck in, that reached a little ways up my lower back. Sexy.

“I wasn’t sure which set of tan lines you would like, so I got all three,” I remember telling him.

He appreciated the effort, but was quick to point out that the tan lines he was referring to weren’t real bikini lines. Most models and porn-stars sport the lines of thong bottoms and tiny triangle cups on their boobs that let you know they either live in Brazil or have access to a rooftop/private beach that allows them to tan in lingerie. He also said that the half moon area that sometimes doesn’t tan under the butt was sexy, too – it means the owner of that particular tan line has a juicy booty. I always thought it was tacky. Seriously.

I don’t regret doing it. I feel I made an honest effort in showing an interest in something The Boyfriend likes, which is important in relationships. If I ever did it again, I would probably choose the tanning salon and the correct porn-star wardrobe so that I could get it right. Because just like I don’t do anything halfway, I try not to do anything half-assed either.