I am so glad I'm not them ...Thankful #17

Or you could read I am so glad I am me.

So my neighbor has a daughter who sells the cutest shoes, boutique style, for little girls. For those of you familiar with Olivia's squeaky shoes this is where I get them. Anyway, I got a call saying Heidi would be at her mom's house selling her cute shoes today. Of course I go because Olivia loves shoes as much as I do (I have to tell you about the sweet North Face boots my sister picked up for me at like $80 off).

So I get there and I am a mess. I had been painting the newly finished laundry and family rooms all day and I was speckled from head to toe and smeared on my legs and shoes. No makeup and not even the No-Shower do of curly hair (yes 3 pregnancies have given me curly hair). I was frightening I'll admit it. There was a new feature to the shoe boutique and this was trendy handbags, Juicy sweatsuits and some way expensive jeans. This was not Heidi's gig. Her cute baby shoes were in the back and these tag-a-longs were set up for all to walk through. Even paint spattered me. I even had my safety glasses on my head still.

I don't even know how to start telling what happened next. It was like a Twilight Zone. I stepped up the stairs and said "Hi, I promise I am all dry I have been painting all day (duh) and had to hurry over for Heidi's shoes." Nothing. Silence. Just a few looks up and down at my obviously not worth their time appearance.

See these girls were ummm... lets say plastic. What was that movie that took place in a high school where the girls who were surgically enhanced were referred to as The Plastics? (Leave a comment if you know). Well these were those same girls only 20years later and stuffed with a few more recycled milk jugs (or tubs of chicken fat). Totally huge stacked boobies (silicone). Gigantic pouty perfect lips (collagen). Hair extensions, acrylic nails, false lashes, lifted booties and tucked in tummies, tattooed eyeliner so thick Tammy Fay Baker (rest in peace) would be rushing to the bathroom to apply more just to fit in. All this was clad in Juicy Couture (not the knock offs they were selling) velour lounge wear and Coach bags (again not the knock offs they were selling) poised perfectly on their arms with the faint sounds of custom ring tones from a blackberry acting as background music.

I thankfully found Heidi in this landfill and we chatted about Alaska, her vacation there, my move, her wanting to hear how it all turned out etc. Found darling shoes, squeakers and all, for Livs and went to check out The Plastics merchandise.

Now I am a shopper and not a fraid of a knock off ( I do own a "burberry" bag from the swanky Times Squares Hawkers. So covert that it even came out of a black plastic garbage bag in someone's trunk). I have even been known to have acrylic nails, hair extensions, and a very good Victoria's Secret bra that I have dubbed Cheaper than a Boob Job (Body by Victoria). But as I perused The Plastics' wares I got not a one "how may I help you?" or "what size do you wear?" or "look what we got just for this boutique." Nothing. I was invisible.

I guess because the only silicone I had on me was smeared across the leg of my jeans from caulking the bathroom 2 years ago...that stuff just does not wash off...I was not worthy of the knock offs, the flashy bags, the chunky beaded watch bands.

So me and my Fossil watch, 6 year old paint splattered Ralph Lauren jeans (authentic not even outlet) and Simple loafers, delegated to household chores, walked off.

So why did I name drop the brands I was sporting? Because if they had looked past the grime they would have seen some of the very labels they and the world hold in esteem. I like them because of function. Waterproof watch, sturdy shoes and jeans that didn't make my butt look big after Ethan was born. but now they are worn out, stained, and not worth a whole lot.

And what did I think on the way home? I am so glad I am me. I practically skipped I was so happy. So glad that I did not care or feel insecure, or even worse try to fit in. I am so glad that I know myself and feel comfortable in my own skin no matter what. And even if I was my normally put together self I still would not have received the time of day from The Plastics because I know I carry myself as someone who knows her values and what she is really worth.