I was driving along, minding my own business.
I wasn’t looking for trouble, really I wasn’t.
But the site of a small, yellow, diamond-shaped sign with three little words nearly made me run off the road.
Baby on Board.
Innocent-seeming words, perhaps, but frightening in their cuteness to anyone who lived through the 1980s once and would rather run her fingers through some guy’s Jheri curl than live through them again.
But that sickeningly adorable Baby on Board sign was a wakeup call as loud as any Frankie Say Relax T-shirt. It was at that moment I wondered if it was really middle-aged “mommy brain” that made me wear two different earrings to the Chamber of Commerce coffee that morning or if I was actually channeling my inner Cyndi Lauper.
My subconcious was trying to alert me to the meaning behind sights I’d been repressing.
When my teenage daughter came home wearing feather earrings recently I found them more reminiscent of a cool “Half Breed”-era Cher than an androgenous, “Goody Two Shoes” Adam Ant or worse, a hair-metal band fan.
And when I saw girls wearing skin-tight leggings under dresses, I just told myself they must be cold.
At the beach this summer, when Shannon’s hair turned orangish from a run in with Sun In, no warning bells went off.
Even when Shannon walked in from back-to-school shopping and proudly displayed her new jeans, I was able to somehow slip into Sybil mode to block the knowledge they were peg-legged, acid-washed and ripped at both knees.
I hear post traumatic stress can do that to a person.
Now that I know ‘80s fashions really are back, I awake sweating from nightmares in which I am wearing Alexis Carrington shoulder pads, facing a fully padded Brett Favre and telling him, “See, fashion can come out of retirement, too.” And then suddenly, Brett’s wearing a white jacket with the sleeves pushed up over a pink T-shirt and I am leaning over to rub his perfectly trimmed 5-o’clock shadow …
Wait. What was this column about again?
Any-hoo, the gist of things is that it’s time I had The Big Talk with my daughter.
Not THAT talk.
The one I really dread. The one where I show her pictures of myself in high school in the 1980s and warn her of the dangers of pop collars, jelly shoes and massive hair bows. I’ll warn her she will, once she awakens from the fashion nightmare that has taken hold, be forced to burn her high shool yearbooks and any stray prom photos. Abstinance, I’ll tell her, is best.
But if she can’t control her urges, I feel it’s my duty as a mother to remind her that people who wear skin-tight leggings should probably go ahead and buy themselves some leg warmers and order a Jazzercise tape, or at the very least sign up for Richard Simmons’ Deal-A-Meal program.
Otherwise, they better hope those totally awesome parachute pants also make a comback because they can really hide some thunder thighs.
Don’t ask me how I know this.
Kelly Kazek
Like Favre, shoulder pads come out of retirement
- Kelly Kazek
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What are smart phones really planning?
You may think I still use eight-track cassettes and BETA tapes, too, but, no, it’s only with phones that I draw the line. I have my reasons. Hear me out.
- Twinkies need government bailout
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Biography of Kelly Kazek
Kelly Kazek was born in Warner Robins, Ga., in whichever year adds up to her being 35.
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Surreal episode irks orchestra director
When the iPhone’s common ringtone, which is supposed to sound like that well-known musical instrument the marimba, went off during a performance of the New York Philharmonic last Tuesday, the conductor was highly irked, incensed and rankled, or in philharmonic terms, seriously cheesed.
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Lucy smarter than the average dog
I was thinking perhaps I should give Lucy one of those doggie IQ tests. You know, the ones in which you place a ball under a blanket and see if your dog is smart enough to find it?
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Having daughter home from college an experience
During Shannon’s first long visit home at Thanksgiving, I realized we were having a communication problem, namely she doesn’t think she has to communicate what time she’ll be home at night.
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A single mom’s dream before Christmas
Note: This column by Kelly Kazek was initially published Christmas Eve 2006 in The News Courier.
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It's here: Annual Guide to Seriously Weird Christmas Gifts
Then, shoo, skedaddle, vamoose. Go watch football or pull someone’s finger or whatever it is you guys do. But do not read this column!
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Dieter's blue plate includes Cookie Monster cupcake
Finally, after all these years I have learned the excuse, er, reason for my weight gain: my plate.
No, it’s not a metal one in my head. Like I haven’t heard that before. -
Most wonderful time can be dangerous
After reading about the dastardly deeds committed so far this year in the name of peace on earth, I am starting a petition to send to Santa. I am asking him to change his list categories from “naughty” and “nice” to “naughty,” “nice enough,” “purty good,” and “too stupid to be wasting Rudolph’s oxygen.”
- More Kelly Kazek Headlines
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Denver's Largest-Ever Drug Bust Nets Dozens
Marines: No Punishment for Nazi-like Flag
Vets Look to Translate Military Skills Into Jobs
Expert: Removing LA School's Staff 'Appropriate'
Raw Video: School Bus Burst Into Flames
LA School Reopens Amid Sex Abuse Scandal
$25B Settlement Reached Over Foreclosure Abuses
Pentagon: Allow Women Closer to Front Lines
Obama Gives Education Waivers to 10 States
Giffords Aide to Run for Her Seat
LA School in Sex Abuse Scandal Reopens
Winter Slamming North Asia, Parts of Europe
Syrian Forces Renew Bombardment of Homs
States, Banks Reach Foreclosure-abuse Settlement
Raw Video: Italy's Mount Etna Bursts Into Life
Greeks March; Angry Despite Debt Deal
Raw Video: U.S. Pullout Celebration
Raw Video: Annual Empire State Building Run-Up
Man Killed in Courthouse Shootout
Air Force Airlines: Leaders Get Polished Service
