Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Summertime, and the Mamas are Frumpy

Summer is one of the worst seasons of all in Frumpistan. It seems to me that less layers would mean less frump, but the exact opposite is true. Open a summer magazine, and you see pages upon pages of cute hats, beachy hair, jazzy sandals and easy sundresses. Step into a suburban park or a museum between the months of June and September, and you see hundreds of versions of this:

Everything about these outfits—the drab colors, the stretchy fabrics, the unbrushed hair, the multiple straps, the various carrying devices, the fanny packs (!) and, oh god, the footwear—makes me want to poke out my eyeballs while simultaneously mainlining antidepressants. This is SUMMER, moms. Stop giving me Seasonal Affective Disorder with your outfit choices.

Interestingly, the children of moms like this always look cute, colorful and summery. I just don't get how you can zip your daughter into a brightly colored sundress, then slump back to your room and pull on your faded, earth-toned t-shirt and stretchy pants. If it's comfort you're going for, stretchy clothes come in colors, too. And maybe I'm wrong, but I've got to believe a fanny pack cancels out the comfort factor of an elastic waistband.

Not all hope is lost, however. I saw this cute, comfy summer mom at a park a few days ago and she undid some of the damage that's been done to my retinas over the past few months. Thank you, unfrumpy mom. I really, really needed that.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Splish Splash, I Was Frumping my Frump

One of my best friends has a daughter who is a crack swimmer so she spends the majority of her free time at swim meets. This makes me sad, because I never see her, but it helps take the sting away when she sends me photos such as these:

Perhaps this woman was trying to go with some sort of flowy water theme when she rummaged around in her closet and pulled out her blue silk genie pants. Ok. But there's a bigger problem here. SHE HAS BLUE SILK GENIE PANTS IN HER CLOSET. As always, I am flummoxed not just by the wearing of such an item, but the question of where these kinds of things are being purchased. If I decided one day that I really, really wanted smocked-top blue silk genie pants to remain comfortable while matching the pool at my child's swim meet, where would I go shopping? 

I am an equal opportunity unfrumper. Men don't cross the line nearly as often as women, but alas, sometimes it happens. This poor guy just needs someone, probably his wife (unless his wife is the genie pant wearer) to separate all these items of clothing into four different outfits. That shirt with different pants, not stuffed into a waistband. Those shorts with a t-shirt, also preferably not stuffed into a waistband. Those socks under a pair of dress pants and stuffed into dress loafers. Those shoes stuffed into a bag, tied down with rocks and thrown into a river. I wonder if this guy glanced up at the cute casual dad standing in front of him, looked down at himself and said, "Well, crap. I did it again. I wore every black thing I own. Dang." (Doesn't he just look like a guy who says dang?)

Thank you for the awesome pics, my friend. You know who you are.

Thursday, August 2, 2012


You know you haven't been to your own blog for awhile when you forget your password.

Once, in highschool, three of my friends and I took a boat out in a lake at night and went skinny dipping. While we were in the water, we heard the distinct sound of a motor boat heading in our direction. It was really dark, we didn't have a light, and we were naked. Envisioning a very dangerous and very embarrassing collision, we all fish-flopped ourselves back into the boat as quickly as we could. Or almost all of us did. I got myself caught on the side of the boat, straddling half of my naked self in the water and half in the boat. Somehow my fright or general lack of grace kept me from being able to successfully complete the flop. Apparently this visual is burned into the retinas of my three friends. And believe it or not, they remain my friends. (Apologies, ladies.)

Anyways, this pretty much aptly describes how I've been feeling for the past two months. One half of a graceless body in sanity and one half in insanity. I HAVE remained mostly clothed, but I'm not sure the visual is any better. There's no one reason for it all—more like 400 ones—but it adds up to me falling down the rabbit hole and not seeing a rope anywhere handy.

So here I am. Blink. Blink. Blink. My, it's bright in here.

If anyone is still out there, I have some unfrumping to do. To myself, in the world, in general. Hopefully I will stay clear of rabbit holes, gopher holes and man holes. (Why does that world suddenly strike me as dirty?)

Until then, stay clear of naked boaters and dirty man holes.