Sunday, March 6, 2011

The truth has been revealed: I am not a hippie.

























































































































I wear patchouli everyday. I named my child after a flower. I dont shave my legs too often, certainly not in the fall winter or most of spring. I have been or do go to whole foods and trader joes, and pay triple just cuz' its so fake small town-y. With the "handwritten" signs from corporate. But as sure as the day is long, I am a FAILURE as a Hippie. You know why? Because even though Sgt. Peppers is currently in my cd player in my car, I love BRAS and SHOES TOO DAMN MUCH!

Do you even comprehend how much I hate being barefoot---OUCH--glass, nails, rocks, ringworm, warts, pebbles, rust, spiders, staphylococcus---fuck that! I hate it hate it hate it! I used to run around the neighborhood barefoot, seriously, when I was a teenager, I walked all the way to my job at a pool barefoot. Didnt even hurt. WTF?! SO weird. Now I weigh a ton and my feet all all wussy and gentle. So instead of being a thin athletic teenager with leather tough feet, I am now the exact OPPOSITE of that, and therefore, I love shoes. And therefore I fail the BAREFOOT portion of the BAREFOOT BRALESS HIPPIE thing. You still with me? Good. So ponder this:
I like the sturdy, sturdy super uber clunky 90s shoes. I LOVE my Doc Martens. I have the oxford red 3 lace ones, I have black mary janes that are painfully horrifically tight because they are not unisex, but rather, girls shoes, ladies, what have you, well they only go up to a 10. And I am an 11 if not 11 1/2. OW. I also have 8 hole patent leather red Doc Marten boots that rule my life. Gorgeous fun darling you feel like some alien spacecraft barbie fashion doll when you wear them, not bad t'all :)

Recently I discovered Keen. Yummy clunky super crunked out mountain climbing-chic-- look I dont know what to call this shit but it gets me, I fuckin LOVE it, all that faux hiking shit yummmmmmy so cute. Ok so KEEN(s), Keen, I have a pair of green mary janes and a pair of clunky hiking shoe thingies. Also green. I adore and devour green articles of clothing and decor. Duh. I takes my breath away, a good green anything-- car, paint on a house, little signs, I just adore green, it is amazing. It is so hard to do green wrong, even if you go into mint which is disgusting ,but since this 80's chic just does not seem as if it will ever fucking DIE, pastel yes sadly is also back and somehow....Im falling out of hate with pastel green-- sick right? ;P

Well, green shoes, clunky shoes, hi top chucks, platform boots, combat gear, I love me a great shoe. Mmmm mmm mmm.

And now, my dears, on to Bras!
Bras, oh bras, brassieres, all those lame things like boulder holder and, ummm other things? Yes, bras, I LOVE THEE. I H A T E My boobs flailing around. It makes me puke. It is not free, it is not comfy, cozy, casual, political, it is GROSS. BLECH. shudder. I Like a very high quality bra, one that is like micro engineered, researched, cantilevered, I want it to be A M A Z I N G. Like ,armor. Fucking armor to go out there and cook meals for brats and deal with assholes in stores and drive with psychos on the roads, texting while drink driving, ARMOR to help you lift lift lift huge fat toddlers up into swings, carts, baskets, vans, carseats, high chairs, bathtubs, cribs, playpens, strollers, ergos, pouchie things---holy shit, my titties would be pulverized by some kid's shoe if I didnt have a seriously wonderful bra on! OWCH anybody?
Besides armor, both psychological and actual, the bra just--solidifies you. Or is should. I am talking about real big time bras here, not little pink thingie from Target---like big crazy cup bras, they sure help my ole fluffy moosh boobs somehow mold into a lovely round bowl, safe and ensconced, looking all but 1/2 of my actual age of nearly 36 if-ya-know-what-I-mean, I think it is just lovely and fantastic to be solidified. Lovely!

SO, thus having failed my BAREFOOT and BRALESS categories of the barefoot braless hippie, we must now all rationally conclude that I am not and cannot ever be, truly, a hippie. I admire them and love the few real ones I am lucky enough to know, I thank them for their work and vision and perfumes and big rolicky skirts that hide fucked up mom butts, truly, they're so pretty and awesome-- but Gen X, Gen Y, next gen, I dunno, but I just so NOT a hippie. and thats totally ok, cuz hippies really dig me, and I think they know Im a kindred spirit. And thats groovy.

9 comments:

Jill said...

ACH! I have finally found something I don't do like you! I hate shoes and bras! But it's cool, we can still be friends. :)

Housefairy said...

<---- one of my true few hippie mama friends! Lil Barefoot Jilly of the hills :) Bt she still likes me cuz she knows

Olivia said...

Eeek, get out of my head! I HATE to be barefoot. I wear slippers or flip flops all the time in the house, and we have carpeting. One small step outside requires shoes. And bras, yes! At home I'll go for a comfy, loose one because I've still got a nursling, but when I leave the house mah boobz need structural support. Skirts, I wish I could love, but I am so much more comfortable in pants. I looove hippies and I wish I could go fully into that lifestyle, but it's just not me. I'll dabble my toes in the water but then I'm gonna put my shoes back on. :)

Rixa said...

Now that I'm nursing babies and thus have gone up from an A to a D, I definitely cannot stand going without a bra. I did occasionally when I was a perky A...but I loathe the feeling of my breasts touching my chest now that I'm bigger and droopier. Yicky yuck.

I love wearing skirts in the spring/summer/fall...but not the ankle length crinkly flowing ones--I'm a knee-length A-line skirt kind of girl. And in winter, it's definitely pants and a long-sleeve shirt or sweater.

Jill said...

Now, the one thing I can't really do as a hippie is let the body hair grow. I do in the winter, when no one sees it. But I just....don't LIKE having hairy legs and pits in the summer. I don't think it looks nice. yeah, i am all grossed out by my body! How hippie of me! :P

Michelle said...

Being a hippie is an inside job! It isn't about what you wear or don't wear, or whether or not you shave anything...it's a soul thing. I know. 'cause I'm a hippie through and through but I don't go barefoot most of the time ( I wear my birks all summer absolutely everywhere ) and my Doc Marten's in the Fall/Winter, or my hiking boots (even with skirts). I do wear twirly skirts, and I've worn patchoulli ( combined with lavender and clary sage ) for 35 years which actually means I don't even smell it anymore : ) I'm a hippie. And Joy...I hate to tell you this...but you ARE a hippie, heart and soul, shoes, bra and ALL. XXOO

SolaceMama said...

OooH! Maybe we could be friends. :D I must have a bra for these mama boobs. And shoes for my pregnancykilledmyfeet feet.

KEM said...

bras are a must around here. Way too many opportunities for grabbage if I'm not well-clad. It's often the first thing I put on in the morning because, after nursing for 4+ years straight, let's jsut say gravity has not been kind. Suddenly rubbing my nipple against a countertop? Skeevy. Icky. Gross.

jakesask said...

Definitely anti-bra, have been for a decade, both pre and post baby (and during 3 years of breastfeeding). Don't shave legs, ever (no one sees them anyway, never wear shorts or skirts, so it's not very controversial or socially brave). Got a rude remark from a tech who had to attach sensors to my legs when I had an EKG at the UI hospital years ago. I shave armpits in summer months when I'd wear a sleeveless shirt . . . I'm not sure the horrible itchy rash is more appealing than hair, but I do think it's more socially acceptable, and I am not good with criticism or funny looks. :-(

Never wear shoes or even socks at home . . . but I definitely do when outdoors, in both urban and rural circumstances! There was a guy in my last apartment building who didn't wear shoes or socks at all, ever. I'd see him entering and exiting the building in bare feet, walking down the sidewalk in the downtown of a large city, unconcerned about what he might step on. I wasn't envious.

I concur that the hippie thing is more internal than external, and I think I fail on some of the internal points that are far more significant than apparel or grooming. I won't even start on my related failure as an attachment parent (the babywearing war of 2007-2008 speaks for itself)!