First, I'd like to apologize. I don't have any intention to offend but sometimes it is necessary to speak plainly. Sometimes in speaking plainly another might think a criticism is involved. That is not the case. I just hope this helps out EVERYBODY. Here goes....
I'd like to define renaissance woman. I mean renaissance in a classical sense, not in reference to a historical time period. I grew up like every little girl with stories of how things just work out at the last moment. The shoe fits... the prince recognizes her... yadda, yadda, yadda. Now add in a person's own spin on that fantasy. I have years of idyllic imaginings and finally, at my mature years, I have gathered enough resource material to build my imaginary world. It is a time of fruition, enlightenment and expansion of my boundaries. My life is finally being painted in rich hues and gold. (Though I would like to add a caveat here. Mice do not talk, they only crap in the silverware drawer. Okay, you can continue now. )
Now, stick with me here... have you ever noticed how the skinny little gals with the perky butts can just wear anything?! You pop them into a pair of overalls or painter pants and they just look sassy AND perky. Society just seems to think that they're just as cute as a bug's ear. I wear overalls and painter pants. I don't look cute. It doesn't help that I buy large. I buy large because I need the space for air to move and sweat to drip and sometimes I get myself in positions... well, lets just say that one day I literally had to crawl out of my clothes in the back yard. I am utilitarian. I have to be. I recently told one of my daughters that my style sense could be considered "early barn".
We're going to make another jump now. Don't worry, I'll get to my point. I used to work a cleaning job. I dressed in appropriate clothing to the job. I usually wear a work boot because women's shoes or boots rarely have any arch support. When on your feet all day on concrete, you make sure there is something under your arches. So one day while working this job, a co-worker and I were having lunch and she inquired whether or not I liked men. My response was that it all depends. I have little tolerance for idiots and assholes. That wasn't what she meant. She reiterated. Do I LIKE men? I reminded her that I was married and had three children. She told me that didn't mean anything any more. I'm not very good at social nuances but I told my co-worker that yes indeed I liked men. She replied, " Okay, that's good. Everyone will be glad to know that. You know you might try wearing some ruffles on the collar of your shirts or something so people know."
Can you even buy shirts with ruffles anymore? Do ruffles hold up to mud, manure and concrete? I don't think so. Now here is the point I have been working so hard to reach, maybe we could call it a public service announcement. I am a renaissance woman! I get dirty. I work hard and I wear the clothes that you need for the hard work. I often have hay stuck in my hair. There is often manure on my boots. Most of my clothes have paint splatters. Sometimes my glasses do too. And the important part is .... I don't care. The new rule of thumb is this... ruffles mean nothing. If a woman looks like a walking muckhole then she is a renaissance woman chasing her dream. If a woman's tee shirt is dazzling white and her jeans perfect in that James Dean fashion and her boots look like they just came out of the L.L. Bean box.. lesbian.
So, no getting that mixed up anymore, okay? Now I have to go mend a fence. Pip was out in the yard again this morning.