In eighth grade French, M. Rachelle interrupted conjugating the verb, etre, to pass on some very important information.
Je suis, tu es, il est, elle est, nous sommes, vous etes ... Class, you should always put on enough makeup in the morning, so that you don't have to reapply your base or your mascara during the day.
M. Rachelle was full of wisdom on topics related to clothing and makeup and very generously shared these facts with our class. Back in the 70s, she told us that we should always wear a strong sunblock when tanning, which shows that she was a woman ahead of her times. She also showed by demonstration. With her heels and big hair, she would make the 13 year old boys quiver and even old Mon. Bison would find excuses to drop into class. I took copious notes.
I was very thankful to M. Rachelle, because I wasn't getting any of this info at home.
My mother is tone death to girlie things. She never told me that you should wear flats with a long skirts or how to dry curly hair or that if you have good legs, you should wear mini skirts. She also had odd rules. She wouldn't let me shave my legs until high school. Clogs and tube tops were banned. I mean how Dark Ages could she get?
I had to pick up information by memorizing large chunks of Seventeen magazine and by studying others, like M. Rachelle.
When I would ridicule my mom for not knowing how to dress like the other moms in town, she would say that there were more important things in the world. I really couldn't think of anything more important than protecting oneself from the mean girls in eighth grade.
So, it took me until I was 30 to catch up to other girls who had moms to train them in the ways of eyebrow grooming and swimsuit selection. I vowed to never put my daughter in such a precarious position -- teaching her all about the lives of the saints, but never pointing out you shouldn't wear a navy shirt with a black skirt. Duh. I've been keeping careful mental notes of these important life lessons to pass onto my daughter.
One should be "Always have a little black dress in your closet. Never put off buying it until two days before the event, because you'll never find the perfect one when in such a panic."
That's what's going on today. I have a fund raising event on Thursday night at my alma mater and nothing to wear. The Banana has only one black dress in stock, but it is a butt enlarger. There is no way my ass is that big in real life. I went to Ann Taylor, but their dresses are built for women with a larger rib cage than I have. Even the size 1/2 was falling off.
I am very sad that I have no girls to hand down these pearls of wisdom. I will have to take my nieces aside when they reach middle school for a long chat.
My mom is still a bad dresser. A couple of weeks ago, I went over for a visit, and she was in purple polyester pants and a nunish jacket and nunish shoes.
Mom! How can wear those clothes? You are not a nun. Stop dressing like one.
Leave me alone, Laura. I'm an old lady. Besides you know that nothing fits me.
Well, it's true that it's hard to find clothes for little mommy. She's only five feet tall, but it's not that hard.
Later that night, I opened up the Lands End catalog and ordered $500 worth of stuff and sent it to her house. It was an expensive gift, but I knew that she would end up returning 90 percent of it. She was pissed off with me, but recovered. She even kept a sweater set, blouse, and a nice pair of pants. We'll keep doing this until she throws away the nun shoes.
Ses chaussettes ne sont pas jolies.
