I did it! I finally abducted last year’s shorts from my daughter. Winter is just around the corner, so I am hoping the snow and ice will freeze the memory of their pink, huggy, loveliness from her mind.
My daughter is six. She can still get away with the too small shorts, but not for long! Before I know it, she’s going to be a tween and the short shorts will be… just… wrong.
In looking at the current fashion trends of girls striving for the incomprehensible high level of sluttiness that idols like Brittney Spears and (ugh) Lindsay Lohan have set in place. Short skirts? Sure. Showing those bellies? Why not. Underwear? Who needs it!!
For this reason, I am counting down the days until the grunge revival. C’mon! Please arrive in 2016 or 2017. I want my teen wearing baggy pants (think MC Hammer) and long baggy shirts that she get out of her dad’s closet. Or mine.
Older men see these girls. Even younger men see these girls. They see all girls, but their testiculars and such override their logical brains when it comes to visible skin. Yes. I know that’s not a real word. Sometimes I like to make up my own.
I had my own experience with an older man. Two, rather. Not at the same time. I was never that kind of girl!! They tried to breach my bubble when I was 18. They were both in their mid-thirties. I am in my mid-thirties now. WTF? There is no way on earth I would come on to an eighteen year old! Or a twenty-five year old!! Well, I guess I shouldn’t come on to anyone, since I’m married.
Side note: I’m not as perfect as I want to be… I admit it. I saw Twilight. I had a couple of beers. Edward is actually over 100 years old, so it doesn’t really count. hmmmm. Edward….
Oh yeah, I forgot I was typing. The older men that tried to breach my pink bubble of happiness were creepy (as I was for a minute there, forgive me Edward). That’s all there is to it! One of them was a British guy who came into the country to do some fitness instruction or something. Do you remember when Mel Gibson was hot, and not just a wife-beating drunken fool? Well, he looked like Mel. The Mel of 1995. Good, yummie, well muscled, blue-eyed Mel. My mom and I would sit in our lawn chairs at the pool, mopping up the puddles of drool with our beach towels.
And then something happened. He came over to talk to me one day. I’m sure my bubble-headedness was not well masked by the stupid look of lust on my face. sigh. And then? He asked me out on a date. A friggin’ date? In Saudi Arabia? Where do you go? Well, fortunately for me, nowhere because when I went to meet him at the “snack bar” he was nowhere to be seen. I know. The snack bar. Wow. I missed the awesome date of a lifetime there. I felt a bit like a teenager or something; awkward and stood up. At the snack bar. Duh. Someone hook me up with an order of sambousa to drown my sorrows.
I saw him at the pool a few days later. I said “hey” as casually as I could, hoping that my complete dorkiness wouldn’t show through in that one word. He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes and proceeded to get mad at me. He actually scolded me! Like I was a child! Oh, that’s right. I WAS a child!! He had gone to a different snack bar and was totally pissed that I had the audacity to stand him up.
I lucked out. I won the lottery. This dude was NUTS. He was nuttier than nuts. He was a psychotic pedophile. Just as we’ve seen with Mel, the hotter they are… the more psycho. It’s a well-known fact. Look around you. If they are super gorgeous, they are usually completely bonkers. It’s like all the extra work at growing those beautiful skin and bone cells took a lot of energy away from producing solid brain cells. eek.
The other one that I was naive enough to hang out with, actually asked me if I’d ever been kissed before. Ummmm… yeah. And it was a long time before you, dude. And it was a kiss from someone my own age. And for some reason it didn’t make me want to vomit like this kiss does. Not that it was perfect either… it was more of a face-licking than a lip-kissing (but we were young and still learning. or the guy was hungry or something).
My point here is that maybe I shouldn’t judge you Older Man, dating your girlfriend who’s two years younger than your own daughter. News flash! I AM! I don’t care if you have found some “awesome connection” and she thinks you’re wise and nurturing, standing in for that “father figure.” Whatever.
You. Are. Creepy.
(and I now have George Michael’s Father Figure in my head… great…)
Stay far away from my daughter. I am a mama bear and I will probably kill you. Or at least bite you really hard. Leave you for the coyotes.
I know there are people who celebrate the Demi Moore’s of our fake Hollywood world. I’ve never been on that end. Never had me a boy toy. I think it’s just too strange for this bubble. Of course, if my bubble DID have a boy toy, he would probably look an awful lot like Edward.