What a Croc

I have a funny friend. She doesn’t try to be funny, but she can’t help it. She says funny things. Some people might say the things she says make her a bitch – but, she makes me laugh, sometimes for hours. She has been trying to get me to step up my personal presentation game as I am not one of those women who know how to coordinate. She wears outfits. I wear clothes. Comfortable clothes. For years, she has tried. I knew if I just let her, I could have the wardrobe that many would envy. It’s just that I hate to shop and thought that being a slave to fashion would take more money, time, and patience than I possess. Her efforts and those of others, have paid off. I have stepped up my game, and expanded my wardrobe beyond t-shirts and jeans.

When I was a kid, wearing jeans was still pretty new.  My mother used to say, “only convicts and drug addicts wear jeans.” According to her, they also are the only ones who got tattoos. She and I would go shopping and I would find these lovely casual tops and my mom would ask, “what are you going to wear that with?”

“Jeans.”

We would sing that song until the chorus where mom would say, “You know, you can’t wear jeans everywhere, all of the time. You will never find a job where you can wear jeans.” Ha! I laughed at that. And, Mom, I proved you wrong. I have worn jeans to work since 1995. I wore jeans almost daily until just recently, when I discovered leggings and tunics….my new uniform. Talk about comfortable – man. I don’t even change clothes when I get home because I am still comfy. It is the biggest form of cheating I can think of and people compliment me all day long. And I can wear boots! But, I digress.

While I may have improved the wardrobe…my shoes were still in the comfy department. To be fair – my ankles roll and I have a balance problem. Not a big deal when I was younger, but as I get older, falling could mean a broken hip or I’ve fallen and I can’t reach my wine….what a tragedy that would be.

Back to my funny friend. She barely tolerates my Birkenstocks and Uggs. Two brands I loved for their quality and comfort. But, they no longer meet my expectations in either department.  I have a few pair I haven’t worn out yet and I wear them sometimes when I’m with her just for fun. Anyhow – we were talking about schools and teaching philosophies – mom stuff. And she is telling me about someone’s opinion from where her kids go to school.

She says, “How can I listen to anything she says, she wears Crocs.”

I burst out laughing. I mean, even I agree that wearing Crocs spells giving up as much as Birkenstocks say lesbian. It is one of my favorite things she has ever said. It still makes me smile to think of it. By the way, not all of us in Birks are lesbians. And the reverse is also true.

Recently the son and I were shopping for this week long walking trip we were going to be taking.  I was looking for cute, comfy shoes. With arch support. That go with everything. While my son tried on a poop ton of shoes, I wandered. I found the cutest little flip flops. Okay – not super cute.  Not little.  But they are black, have about an inch of stacked height, and little stars of glitter all over the strap. Tacky to some, cute to me. Even the funny fashionista would approve.  And, they are on clearance – score!

Until I find the box…Crocs. Never say never starts going through my mind. Well, they won’t have my size. They do. I figure I might as well try them on to prove to myself that I won’t like them. OMG. They are possibly the most comfortable shoes I have ever worn. Lighter than the Famolare Get Theres. Way lighter than the Doc Marten’s. They feel like walking on a cloud or one of those new thick kitchen sink cushions on your feet. They have arch support and are cheaper than the Havaianas I used to wear.

Dang. I hope I don’t lose her as a friend.

PS – Famolares are back for sale….I might die.

Heather Locklear and FB – WTF?

Facebook. Mombook. Fakebook. I am sure there are other not so nice names to describe this social media outlet. Some love it. Some hate it. Some hate the ones that love it. Or, something like that.

FB is a great tool and fun pastime. It reminds you of your friends’ birthdays and let’s you “see” what is going on in the lives of your friends and family.

I’m not interested in living my life on FB. You won’t see me parade my relationships on here, either. I enjoy looking at yours, though: perfect gift, perfect flowers, perfect engagement, perfect children, perfect perfect. Everything is perfect. And, when it isn’t, you can toss it off as, “we are just wild and crazy guys.” Do these people look happy? Sure. Makes me wonder. Why are they trying so hard to convince everyone of same? I’m not buying it.

Mostly, I wonder if the problem is with me. I don’t want the entire world to know what I had for breakfast or where I am and whom I’m with. Sometimes I share – but, usually way after I have left. Why am I so secretive? Dunno. It is not like I have anything to hide. But, I just don’t want the world to know what I am doing and whom I am with. I was sandwiched in between the aluminum foil hats (and other things to keep the government out of my head) generation and the “hey, Amazon – let me pay you to spy on me” generation. That could be it. 

Fb , like the cigarette people, did what they could to “addict” us. And it worked, for some. I don’t care about likes, shares, etc. they don’t define me. But, I think we all know someone who spends just a little too much time on there.

What does FB and other social media have to do with Heather Locklear? Read on, brave soul. The gist is – you never know.

Heather Locklear. Beautiful, bubbly, and living a seemingly exciting life. I always wanted to be her. She was cute and perky and she married someone from Motley Crue. I know, I wanted Nikki Sixx. Tommy was easily the best looking of the 4, but I only had eyes for Nikki. Look at her now – a few marriages, drunk driving, rehab, questionable 911 calls and trips to the “hospital”.

I am not sure what her demons are. Mine was divorce. There are probably lots of reasons she seems to be swimming in the bottom of the barrel. But, dang. Get up, girl. You sort of prove my point…you have millions, can still earn millions. She is even gorgeous in her mug shots. Only she could manage that. Family, connections, friends, she seems to have everything and yet, I think she has nothing. It’s sad, really.

For some, it is hard to have sympathy or empathy for rich and beautiful women going through hard times. When Tiger and Elan Nordgren split, I felt quite sad for her. I knew some of what she was going through. Losing so much is so hard. Choosing better instead of bitter can be a struggle everyday, depending on your situation. Maybe I picked myself up because I had to. Kids and bills.

I will be eternally grateful that when I was going through mine, the only things people saw on social media are what I decided what would be shared. I could portray any image I wanted. Poor Heather (any Elan and any other celeb), having to live her shame in front of everyone. When I was in the ugly stages of mine, total strangers would walk up to me and say, “you look like you need a hug”….how bad does someone have to look for strangers to want to help? I am very thankful that I did not have to do mine with headlines judging me and showing lovely pix of me in jail. Of course, I didn’t go to jail, but you know what I mean.

And you know what…people forget the stuff that I have done….hell, even I can’t remember everything I’ve done. I’ve learned to apologize, forgive, get better and move on. Celebs get to live it all again over and over in the immediate aftermath. But, God forbid they make another mistake. All new headlines with timelines of all of their past transgressions. Over and over – making another new story from the rehashing of old news. And, pictures. Ugh. I am glad there were no cell phone cameras to record all of my stupid moves.

It happened again. Another beautiful, but sad, mugshot. You know what would be nice? To quit talking about and rehashing how she and others fell apart. Let’s refuse to enjoy the torture by ink the rags are producing. Let’s refuse to do it to anyone. Let’s start talking about how we are going to help her get herself together again. Or, how we can support her and everyone else, while they are putting themselves back together again. Let’s cut her and everyone else who needs it, some slack. It’s hard, I know – for someone who looks beautiful even on her worst day. But, let’s do it. You don’t know what her life is like. Just like nobody knows what your life is like. No matter what it looks like on FB.