The Toothless Hoards

I was getting a lovely facial the other day by the most amazing eastern European aesthetician. When she is done working her magic on my face it glows for days and is soooo soft.Delish.

 

This lovely woman,I will call her M, was lamenting of the lack of culture and shopping out here in the ‘burbs.

Here’s where what she said gets really good: she, ‘M’, was at a restaurant opening in our small town the other night and she was telling me about the crowd. According to ‘M’ all the women were badly dressed, drinking, smoking, toothless and eating nothing but Chicken wings. I giggled. The description was too good. I can really relate. After all, I am one of those toothless women. The reason for my acid washed jeans and stained t-shirt is not entirely my (our) fault.

I am the mother of a small child and shopping is something I only do in places that sell milk. If there is a t-shirt or two on the same isle that I purchase no name oats and honey, I pick it up. Costco has become my salvation from walking around completely undressed. (how’s that for an image ?) It is so easy to pick up whatever looks good in my size while walking by the clothing tables. The piles of t-shirts and jeans all sorted by size. I usually grab whatever is in the middle of the piles and keep going. No stopping. Walking, practically running by the tables of clothing. If I stop for just a moment and contemplate a color or size, my small tyrant will start to scream, whine, or curse. Most of my shopping is done while walking really fast. You know those game shows where women have 1 minute to fill their grocery carts? I would win. I could fill two carts. Easy. With my small child prodding me on with his screams for every new toy/movie/shiny thing that catches his eye, laser focus and speed are my specialty.

The well dressed city dwellers wonder why the culture, shopping and food is lacking out in the ‘burbs’. It’s not for lack of trying or wanting to look fabulous and have fabulous things to do and eat. But, Until someone invents a (safe, guilt free) place to lock up our small children and shut them up (or maybe it’s me that needs the pink padded room?) long enough so us mamas can think and pause while shopping for something other than milk and chicken wings we may be shit out of luck.

Here’s to the toothless hoards, mamas, my wings are ready to come out of the oven and the beer is icy cold. Cheers!