FOREVER 21-A State of mind.

I was driving into work and as I sat at one of the many stoplights on my journey, I saw an interesting sight.

An elderly woman was crossing the road at a fairly leisurely pace. I know, big whoop, happens all the time. Right? Well, it was more than an elderly person crossing the road. I was thinking how great it was that she was out and about on a beautiful sunny day. Then, I noticed what she was carrying.

She had a bright yellow bag with black lettering that read-Forever 21.

Now, for those of us familiar with the clothing store you know that it carries an abundance of hip, trendy, stylish, YOUNG clothing choices. So, to see this woman who had to be somewhere in her late 70's or 80's (I'm always a bad judge of age with people) with this particular bag, got me thinking and laughing.

I had a fun time trying to picture her strolling through the store and looking for fashion finds with all the young girls doing the same. Did she opt for a nice pair of skinny jeans and leather thigh high boot with a lace cami? Would she model her new outfit for the hubby at home in order to get him to remember to take his Viagra? Sooo many scenarios to choose from.

Okay, I know that the truth of the matter is that her daughter or grand-daughter probably left it at her house, but it's more fun to imagine something better for her. She looked like she deserved to have a little fun.

Maybe she just bought some jewelry or a nice scarf.

Forever 21...A State of Mind no matter what your age.

Change of Topic...The writing.

Just to stay with the main thread of my blog, the writing is still happening. Of course I am a glutton for punishment and decided to go through the first book one more time as I continue on the memoir. Both are going well. My new goal for the year is to start queries again by October.

IBTC SISTERS UNITE!

For those who are not in the know, the IBT Committee has been in place for many. many years. At least I hope it has seeing that I was indoctrinated in the fall of my freshman year of high school. And being how cruel kids and teens can be I'm sure this has been in place since even my mother's generation. Maybe even my grandmother's.

IBTC simply stands for 'The Itty Bitty Titty Committee.' Why would I even bring this up or choose this embarrassing topic?

Well, I was out this weekend trying to find some cute bras and underwear. And I went to a very well known department store that was having a fabulous sale and had an insane selection of cute bra and pantie sets. I was like "Score I've hit the mother load of lingerie." NOT!!!!

As I spotted a cute bra, I would bee line it over to the rack only to be met with disappointment because there was none in my size. After the fifth rack and no 34A I stormed out of the store cursing that the world is full of beautiful things for the B's, C's, DD's and Larger but alas the poor A cups are left out in the cold. Literally, with our little Ta-Ta's freezing. Why????

Do they think that we don't need cute or sexy Bras because basically our breasts can stand up on their own. (Okay, they can stand on their own which is a nice perk to smaller jubblies.) But that's not the point. We want to feel pretty and sexy with fun colors and lace and leather, okay strike the leather, but fun, sexy, flirty underwear just as much as the next chick with big boobs.

I was also a little pissed because I started having flashbacks in the store of being that newly post adolescent teen who waited, and waited, and waited for the boobs to grow. Hell, my grandma had a huge rack, couldn't genetics have smiled down on me there. No, she decided to play a little joke on me. Then the girls and guys would tease, about being a member of the 'Itty Bitty Titty Committee.' Kids and teens are so cruel. By the time I was a sophomore(in college) I had lost all hope. These things weren't going to grow anymore and I just had to face facts.

Some friends have made the comment 'Maybe you're being sensitive and hard on those larger cup ladies because you don't have big boobs?' BTW-thanks for this contemplation Caroline. I don't believe I am envious or harsh on my buxom buddies because frankly I had larger breasts and I didn't pay five grand for them. They came compliments of my son.

Pregnancy gave me a taste of what living the life of a C cup would be like and where many friends and family I know cherished this larger look during their pregnancy, I hated it. I felt like my chin was practically resting on the things. It was like having a little friend constantly sitting on your shoulder except it was 2 friends on my chest. And frankly they were heavy and my cute tops were not fitting right or getting stretched out which was going to be a serious problem when those bad boys shrinked back to snack size.

So really, I do applaud all those larger breasted women out there. Whether natural, bought, or rented you all look fabulous!

But I will hang on to my little friends. They don't hang down to my belly button and although they aren't as perky as when I was in school, they still stand at full mast.

Tally-Ho everyone...Tally-Ho.

BTW-Did finally score on the great Bra search. Thank you Macy's.

WOULD YOU BE MR. BUTTON?

I recently found myself glued to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. The movie not the book.

And it brought up the question: If you could reverse the aging process and go from being old to young, would you?????

In my opinion your screwed either way you look at it. You start out helpless and pretty much end helpless in both scenarios. Yes, getting older blows a big one. The skin sags, metabolism slows to add those extra pounds that no matter how much you exercise or diet will never leave. It's like having a house guest that comes to visit and never goes home.

Wrinkles proudly make themselves known. They start off slow with only a few here and there. Then you look in the mirror one day and swear they were getting busy like a pack of sex starved rabbits. And then the question screams from your inner sanctum: When did this happen? And should I call the best plastic surgeon in the city??????

Because no matter how we look at it time won't stop to wait for us. Despite all the things we still wish to accomplish. Time is a fickle creature and in some cases very unforgiving.

This is why reversing the aging process and going from old to young wouldn't be any better if you really think about it. Yeah, having your old wrinkly skin slowly morph into a taught smooth surface would be exciting. It would be like finding the fountain of youth without having to lift a finger or fork out any money. No skin products, no nip and tuck.

But then there would come a down side. As we get older we complain about how time has sped up and there aren't enough hours in the day to satisfy our personal needs. But when we were younger time would crawl by. So if in theory that time table was still the same we would not even get the chance to enjoy the new found youth as the years roll past. And I'm not sure I would want to get smaller. If only we could stop somewhere in the middle. Like the movie Logan's Run where everyone is retired at the age of 30 and it's this ethereal ceremony called Carousel that leaves you wondering if they will be reincarnated. Then again you'd have to go through that childhood thing and die just when life was getting good.

Chalk it up however you like. We start in diapers and let's face it, most of us will end in diapers. It's life's cruel little joke. So laugh it up and buy stock in Pampers or Depends.

5 min? 10 min? 30 min? An Hour????

Okay, this post may not be for the feint at heart. My time reference in question is to why some people spend so much time on the toilet. Basically, men. But I can't be biased because I have walked into the ladies room at work and seen my fair share of women lingering as well. Although I do believe that the reasons for the long stay is drastically different for the sexes.

I thought about this on many occasions. Why is it that for the most part, women in general, will get in and get out. Is it a smell thing? Is it that we are busy individuals with a life that never stops so copping a squat for more than ten minutes puts us behind schedule. It's just a bodily function. Nothing more.

Now to men, it appears to be more of a ritual. A chance to escape into the man cave where the manna of stench keeps all others away and in dropping a load your territory is marked.

Or if it's like it is in my house, the bathroom becomes a second office for the men. A place where they disappear with cell phone and laptop in hand only to emerge 45 minutes to an hour later. I realized the depth to which these bathroom escapes meant when one afternoon I went to see what my three and a half year old was doing. I called his name and heard a little squeak come from the bathroom. I thought he was playing in his room but when I peeked around the door into the bathroom there he was with his Toy laptop perched on his legs. Like Father, like son. My first reaction...get the camera. Yes, I have this moment documented for blackmail usage as he hits those teen years should he decide to give me grief.

Is it that the act of taking a crap is so monumental that the distraction of mind and spirit is essential? Hence, the need for the computer and smart phone. I also wonder if it is a comfort level for my son seeing that he also needs to remove all clothing from the waist down to be able to 'do his business.' I can't help but wonder if he will grow out of this phase someday. Might be a tad bit embarrassing once he gets to middle school for others to see a pile of socks, shoes and pants near the stall door. Especially since most jokesters would take the chance to run with the clothes leaving him naked from the waist down. I think that's a nightmare I've had before. The one where your in school and then realize your not wearing any clothes. Yeah, I hate that one.

I guess we all have our own time duration for everything and the bathroom is no different. I just never quite understood the need for entertainment as I go. No newspaper. No book. No computer. I would prefer to read while curled up on my couch with a cozy, warm blanket and a scented candle. Add to that a glass of wine and an overcast rainy day and that's my idea of quality reading time. Not with my backside on a round piece of cold plastic.

But as I always say, to each HIS own. Or HER, depending on how you want to look at it.