A Reluctant Adult

I remember TV reports of Tickle-Me-Elmo madness – people pushing and screaming to get their hands on the last available toy that their child must have and I promised myself I would NEVER go out there on Black Friday. I hate shopping, so the thought of fighting for a doorbuster deal makes me want to pound a 10-penny nail into my head. Yet this year, that is just what I did. I entered the fray on Black Friday… and it nearly killed me.


It wasn’t for the latest drone, a gaming console, or a 4k TV. No, I went to Target to exchange a faulty phone procured on Tuesday because I learned that like taking a direct glare from Medusa, a millennial will actually turn to stone if they are without a phone for 48 hours. Read More


There was a brief window of time when I considered myself stylish. I tried to match up to the men on TV although I could never muster that perfect quaff of hair. No matter how much product promising ultimate waves I used, my hair just lay there disappointingly flat. But clothes – well, I can buy clothes.

Somewhere along the line though, one’s cheapness intersects with the price of the fashion icon he is trying to emulate. When I was young and carefree my intersection point had a higher limit. Then I got married, had children, and was forced to adopt a budget. Even at my highest level, I never had a Ralph Lauren goal. He is too far up the scale. I aspired to reach that Samuel L. Jackson “look good in anything” vibe but settled in somewhere around Jerry Lewis.

Now I flat out don’t care. If I like it and the price is right, I buy it. I don’t believe in recreational shopping. I have to need something before I shop. Seven work shirts worn in the proper order are enough because no one remembers what you wore a week and a half ago. My eye for matching clothes died along with my hearing.

I also think my love of tie-dye lead to the demise of my ability to tell what goes with what. At some point, that random mix of colors flows off the shirts and into every fashion decision. Now tie-dye is more of a style philosophy than just a hippie shirt I own. I have become style-ish instead of stylish.

My oldest daughter gave me sage fashion advice before she left for school:

Dad, if you think it is a good idea, then don’t.

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