Wasn't many days back that one of my daughters passively aggressively hinted that I might have alot more of a social life if I dressed sharper. How insensitive of the so called sensitive sex I thought, snorting "clothes don't make the man Miss Glammorammama". I pictured myself threading her lips shut with a bicycle chain as the name Glammorammama spit rounds from my mouth like an automatic rifle.
"Fine time to tell me at age 66.", I thought. "Why would anyone want to ruin a good thing", I mumbled in the mirror admiring my zubas. Little did my pompous offspring know that I am a direct descendant of the real T Rex, my father Joe. His attitude about clothes ran directly parallel to his pigheadedness regarding change, especially when it came to spending money needlessly. No, he was no clothes horse either.
Later that night, pouting, I traced my dad's lineage back to Fred and Wilma Flintstone who had carved out a cave in nearby Bedrock generations back. In scanning old family photos of Fred and Wilma, it was obvious even to me that Fred lacked any sense of fashion. The few pictures of Fred always show him in what looks like an oversized combination loin cloth & child's sleeping bag in dark brown or beige. His real identity was the spear he held in his hand which validated him as the hunter of the Flintstone clan.
The little woman Wilma and her daughter Pebbles are seen in hundreds of snapshots modeling multicolored polka dotted outfits posing as if they would be attending a Neanderthal tryout for Tots in Terraras. Wilma was the ultimate gatherer, shopper, clothes mare. She was nicknamed the "Social Butterfly of Bedrock".
In some pics, Wilma appears with leaves and colorful small stones strung together around her neck held together by some kind of vines. Bedrock, according to archaeological historians of that era, was the birthplace of jewelry.
I can easily excuse my dad's attire after knowing more about his genes. Making matters more difficult for Joe, he had grown up during the Depression. My siblings and I saw him as our family's hunter hero. He was the breadwinner dashing off to his work in the same drab clothes day after day.
His own proverb in his later years about his work was, "I'm on the treadmill of life. The faster I go, the faster the treadmill goes. You can't afford to fall off". Keep in mind that treadmills in his day were manual, not electric.
Like any good father he spoke words of wisdom that took hold with me, "you can't spend the same dollar twice" I still hear him say. So I learned not to. Matter of fact, I may not even spend the same dollar once, especially on goofy designer clothes like upscale wife beaters.
I'm proud of my frugalalitism even though some of those I have sired prefer to call me cheap. Those black wing tips from my college years still look good for weddings and funerals.
In closing, if my father were alive today he'd want to share this proverb with you: "Never change for the sake of others. There will be no one like you if you change".