I've got a little problem with Christmas Sweaters. It goes like this: I saw the Commish while I was running today. He noticed my double-take and gave me a "I can tell you recognized me - don't call me the commish - keep on running little lady" sort of grimace/smile. Like, I'm old, right? And the Commish, he would be my hot guy?
Then today I had a meeting with the Christmas Sweater Set. We discussed our annual event for Nameless Childrens Charity. As I looked around the room, I realized that I was the age of many of their daughters and this threw me into an exsistential tailspin. I can tell I am headed for it - the question every sane westsider under 50 asks themselves:
Why am I hanging out with such old moms?
I am not old. I used to be cool. Why am I hanging out with these women who wear jeans with front butt technology? Where are all the cool moms?
I have some theories. I could list them, but I am bored already, so let's say it has something to do with money, being the second wife and the time it takes to land a man, get him to divorce his wife, take some hormones, pump out some babies and get them into school. Then let the philanthropy begin!
I guess if I moved to Silverlake or somewhere cool, there would be more cool moms. Then maybe I wouldn't be the coolest mom. There would be unspoken competition for who is the coolest and I would start caring about what I wear to school, and what are my plans for the weekend, and where I have lunch.
It would be high school all over again.
Christmas Sweater Ladies, this photo's for you. Snaps to amandabauer.blogspot.com
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