PEOPLE OF WALMART; I AM ON MY WAY

So here I am at the gym, feeling sassy in my favorite workout gear – well-worn yoga pants and a bleach-stained tank top coyly peeking from beneath a Henley shirt that still bears the evidence of my severe lack of aim with the hair color bottle.   I pounce on the treadmill, eagerly anticipating a brisk thirty minute stroll while watching the Food Channel.  Now before of you question the sanity of me driving  a mile to the gym to walk two miles on the treadmill then drive the mile home, I figure since I have to pay for the gym while walking outside is free, I’m not only burning 300 calories a day, I’m burning 30 bucks a month.  It’s a ….don’t judge me, I’ve killed a lot of brain cells.

Anyhoo, shortly after I got all settled on the treadmill, the cable went out.  Being the multitasker I am, I need two distractions while walking nowhere at 3.6 MPH.  The iPod was one, and I rifled through a stack of old Martha Stewart, Downeast and Redbook magazines to find distraction number 2, settling on a fairly recent issue of Vogue.

Back on the treadmill, I opened the glossy cover, unleashing the fumes of about a dozen distinct and highly imcompatible perfume samples.  As I refocused my eyes, I joked to the woman on the next treadmill ‘Just want to see how fashionably incorrect I am.  Hah Hah.’ My neighbor, obviously one of those sick twisted fitness fanatics in her teal lycra capris with matching sport bra and sneakers, surveyed my bleach and L’Oreal spattered attire, raised one plucked eyebrow and turned her undivided attention to a fingerprint on the treadmill screen. 

After wading through the first 90 pages of beauty product ads, interrupted occasionally by a brief fashion related article, I realized that not only am I fashionably incorrect, I am fashionably corrupt, immoral and just plain wrong.  My closet contains no fluorescent blouses, no capes and (horrors!) no metallic dresses.  Suddenly, I felt very self-conscious about my workout attire.  I continued flipping through the magazine, as best I could with eyes still watering from the toxic fragrance cloud forming over the magazine, looking at the photos, and scanning the captions.  I worked through self-consciousness right  into indignation. 


Back in the day, I tried to keep up.  When paper-thin models waved long brightly colored fingernails, I stopped chewing and started painting.  When short hair was all the rage, I ordered my ever-patient hairdresser to make me look like the picture in the magazine.  She, also being a mere mortal, could only transform the hair.  The popsicle stick legs, chiseled cheekbones, single chin and exotic cat eyes would be left up to the miracle workers who were apparently on vacation. 
Just about the time my hair and nails were what I assumed were fashionably correct, the decree came from the catwalk.  There had been a clerical error.  They meant short nails and long hair.  Clip, clip, condition, condition. 

I have also noticed that, save for the ‘new fall line’ which is really more of architectural nightmarish joke than wearable clothing, fashion designers have run out of ideas.  There has really not been much in the way of innovative fashion since Chanel’s suit.

Remember those Dr. Scholl Exercise sandals that have been a doorstop for the last 30 years?  They’re back on the shelves.  Hiphugger bellbottoms?   All the rage  - but not for me because now I have way more hip to hug.   In fact, my recent search for a bridesmaid dress (hence the panicky assault on the gym) resulted in a lot of one shoulder get-ups.  Oh, they might gussy it up with a ruffle or a flower, but dang it, add a chunky white necklace and Wilma Flintstone rocked that look (oh, I made a funny) decades ago.

I’ve developed my own set of fashion criteria, which I will also share with you  -  because I am a helper.   Disclaimer:  Any connection between strict adherence to these criteria and seeing yourself on   peopleofwalmart.com  is strictly tough noogies.

1, The length of your nails are to be determined by the number of Swiss army functions they perform in a normal day.  If you use your nails to ‘accidentally’ open your boyfriend’s VISA bill, chisel cemented pancake batter off the counter, or scrape Oreo/milk moosh off your sons’ faces before the nice man at the police station snaps their photos, the nails should be a comfortably short yet sturdy.  They should be longer, and more manicured if they are used primarily to stab the olive from the bottom of your martini glass. 

2. An acceptable hair color is one that doesn’t glow in the dark, and doesn’t make your friends suggest you should stop making purchases from the Dollar bin at Marden’s.  The coiffure should be short enough to look acceptable if you have to shower and run, yet long enough to detract from the ‘morning after’ eye bags.  It should also be easy to style without a multitude of product.  This ensures that when you run into George Clooney while dropping your son off at Bar Harbor International Airport/Bait and Tackle Shop you know he’s checking you out because your hair just begs to be touched, not because you’re wearing Garfield slippers and a FarSide tee-shirt  (both fashion classics, I say).

3.  Exercise attire should definitely be bleach and L’Oreal spattered.  Sneakers need not match the rest of the outfit, but it’s a nice touch if they match each other.  This will show those twisted fitness fanatics that you have more to do with your life than keep up with fashion.