1. Low-Rise Jeans. Maybe it’s the way I’m shaped (square), but before low-rise jeans came along, I was a woman-without-country in the denim department. The horrible jeans of the 80’s (designed by Gloria Vanderbilt and her ilk) assumed that everyone had curvy hips and tiny, nipped-in waists, a shape still celebrated in the present-day construction of Mom Jeans. (And let’s face it–Mom Jeans are just 80’s jeans that have morphed a bit to accommodate the ..ahem.. blossoming post-partum form.) The fact is, some of us don’t have tiny, nipped-in waists, no matter what we weigh. In that dark time, we had to choose between wearing trousers that fit in the waist but flapped around the hips like a pair of mountie pants, or jeans that fit the hips but pinched the body nearly in half at the waist, leaving button and zipper impressions so deep they could be cast in plaster. I used to shop for jeans in the boys’ department just to get a half-decent fit. So you can imagine my rejoicing when the jeans industry just did away with waists altogether and started making low-rise jeans. No more torture, no more angry red zipper marks, just comfort and fit for everyone. I’m stocking up so I’ll be prepared when fashions change again and waistbands move to just under the armpits.
2. Tattoos and Piercings. I only have one tattoo, and no piercings that draw comments, but I’m always fascinated by good body art. I especially like the large, colorful tableaus that cover the arms or shoulders of the subject and tell some part of the person’s story: a great loss, a personal achievement, a crossroads, a strongly held belief. I’m not sure I’m done on the tattoo front, but I’m probably past the age when I can decently get my eyebrow pierced like I’ve always wanted to. It would instantly become uncool if I did it, and everyone under thirty would be forced to find a new defining medium for their rebellions.
3. Staying Up Late. Most of our friends express concern when it comes out that Paul and I regularly fall into bed around midnight. We don’t set out to do it, but the nights go by so quickly, and the hours after the kids are in bed are so precious. That’s our time, and it flies by in talking and playing and making plans. Before we know it, we’ve done it again–it’s 12:30 and the morning alarm is mere hours away. Sure, it’s hard to get out of bed, but it’s much harder to get into it when there’s still fun to be had.
4. Video Games. I may hold the record for most team kills in Counterstrike history, but despite my lack of skill and my spastic trigger finger, I enjoy playing video games immensely. It’s a love I came to late in life, so I suppose I’m making up for my misprised youth. At least that’s how I justify all those hours spent in Azeroth.
5. Eating Dessert for Dinner. It’s true. Sometimes I skip the meat and vegetables and go straight to the ice cream. And if I didn’t have a family to feed, I’d probably do it even more often.
6. Cartoons. Spongebob Squarepants. Fairly Oddparents. Jimmy Neutron. Mighty B. Ren & Stimpy. CatDog. Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. The sillier the better.
7. Hip Words. Oh, wait. They don’t say “hip” anymore, do they? Though I avoid some words that I quite obviously cannot carry off (krunk, hizzie, chooch), the fact remains that I still use words like “sweet”, “sick”, “tight”, and “bites” with pathetic regularity. But don’t worry. I’m sure the vernacular is changing even as we speak and I will soon be as hopelessly out of date as ever.
8. Celebrity Crushes. Did I mention that Gerard Butler sent me a signed photo? I did? Just checking…
9. All Day Movie Marathons. Most adults I know don’t have the stamina (or the inclination) to park it in front of the television for a solid ten hours to watch all of the Harry Potter movies in one sitting. I’m not one of those adults. Close the curtains and pass the popcorn! (Just give me a stretch and bathroom break about halfway through!)
10. Public Displays of Affection. Our kids may not want to see it, but that won’t stop us. I love kissing, and holding hands, and stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to share an enthusiastic bear hug brought on by declarations of love and/or impending dessert. Who cares who’s watching?