You are NOT Wearing That to School!

I made Marley change her shirt before school on Tuesday – her 2nd to last day of 7th grade. Actually I told her she had to change her bra. She chose to change her shirt instead.

She was wearing her lacrosse practice jersey – a tank top that has arm holes that practically run down the entire length of the shirt. Underneath she had on a beige bandeau bra. (I will admit that she was wearing a regular bra under the bandeau.)

“Hello, here is my bra,” her outfit screamed at the top of its lungs. At least to me. It was 100% completely inappropriate for school. Or anywhere really.

I told her she had to wear a sports bra underneath if she wanted to wear that shirt to school. Not that the the shirt is appropriate for school with a sports bra (hell, the shirt is barely appropriate for lacrosse practice with a sports bra), but it’s better. And I get it. I really do. I understand why she’d want to wear her lacrosse practice jersey to school. It’s cuter than her uniform jersey (with the normal size arm holes).

But sports bras aren’t cool. Or cute. Sports bras are for playing lacrosse, not for letting boys people know you play lacrosse.

Cool girls. Cute girls. The populars. They all wear bandeaus exposed underneath their barely-there-with-practically-no-sides tank tops. They all do! At least according to Marley.

And she’s right. I’ve seen them.  (And with too-short shorts too I might add.)

And I also understand why their mothers let them. Why I’ve let Marley. Because they are so young and they do look awfully cute. And it’s been so long since things have looked that cute on us. (Or is that just me?)

And I remember what it was like to be that age. To want to wear what everyone else was wearing.

And I remember hearing the words that are worse for “it’s time for bed” or “it’s time to wake up” or “remember to wash your face” or “clean your room.”

I remember hearing, “You are not wearing that to school.”

I hated hearing it and I hate saying it. But that’s what moms do. And one day she’ll say those words to her daughter and she’ll know what it’s like too.

But of course that day is a long way away. And until then I have a feeling I’ll have a lot more “you’re not wearing that to school battles to fight.”

*This post was inspired by Mama Kat’s writer’s workshop: 3.) Write a post inspired by the word: bra

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Mean Girls and 7th Grade

Or rather 7th grade sucks. And not just because of the mean girls.

But why am I telling you this? There is a great blog that I read called Mama’s Losin’ It written by an awesome blogger named Kathy (or Mama Kat) who gives writing prompts every week. When you write a blog using one of the prompts you can link your blog to her site and (hopefully) get more reads. Very cool and very generous of her. Thank you Mama Kat!

I can definitely use a writing prompt this week (and possibly every week) as I am coming up dry lately. Seriously dry. Unless you want to hear about my kids’ Spring Break where I planned absolutely nothing and Marley has been sitting around all week watching My Strange AddictionYeah, I wouldn’t want to hear about that either. (And I certainly don’t want to write it!)

So, one of the writing prompts was to write about a 7th grade memory. And since Marley is in 7th grade I thought this would be a good one.

The problem is I’ve been trying to forget about the 7th grade for the last 35 years. (Shut up about how old I am. Shut! Up!)

When I was in 7th grade (Oh god, I do sound old now…When I was your age…), 7th grade was the beginning of Jr. High. There was no middle school back then. It was elementary K-6, jr. high 7-9, and high school 10-12.

And 7th grade sucks. Or 6th grade. Let’s just say your first year into jr. high (or middle school or whatever). Sucks. Big time. Everyone knows that.

For the first time you’re trying to balance homework from different classes. You’re getting pimples. And possibly your period. (Which makes you a weepy crazy over-reacts-to-everything irrational cranky-ass bitch.)

And there are so many distractions. Like boys. And girls who have cuter clothes than you do. (Which is all of them. Except that weird girl in your 2nd period class who came to school Monday in the exact same rainbow top that ties on the side that you wore to school last Friday. Copycat Bitch!) And boys. Did I mention boys? They’re very distracting. Very.

And you start cursing, not only in your head like you sometimes did in elementary school, but out loud. So mean girls (which is all of them -even your former elementary school friends) are bitches and mean guys (which are the cute ones) are assholes. Because you know, you sound so much cooler when you say words like that. That asshole! That bitch!

The popular mean girls are pretty. They have no pimples. Their mothers buy them clothes from Judy’s or Contempo Casuals (the Brandy Melville and Abercrombie of yesteryear) instead of Gemco where your mother buys yours. Some of them sneer at you as you walk by. Others give you a fakey-fake smile and say, “Hi-how-are-you-I-love-your-rainbow-top” as they pass you in the hallways but you hear them snicker and comment on the fact that you obviously only have two pairs of Dittos -and not even the side-saddle kind- as soon as they’re behind your back.

You hate the popular mean girls. But only because you want to be them.

And if you are honest with yourself (but who is at that age) you will admit that you are probably just as mean as they are. After all, you said some pretty rude things about the weird girl who copied your rainbow top to your friends. Not that you have any friends. Not like in elementary school when life was easy.

Because in 7th grade the girls are mean. And the homework is hard. And the cute boys are assholes distracting.

So the only real memory I have from the 7th grade is that it sucked. (But that’s okay – because 8th grade when I kissed a boy and started babysitting so I could occasionally shop at the mall- totally ruled!)

This post was inspired by:

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