Flip-Flops and High-Heels

So, at some point over the last 25 years, I’ve been somewhat emasculated and feminized, unconsciously mind you. So unconsciously in fact, that I am just now realizing it. My wife is partly to blame, but she has found a way to make herself appear blameless in this, by using the covert agents she has created in the form of daughters. Now, I’m still not sure in what or how many ways this has affected me, but the one I most recently became aware of is in the area of fashion.

Being a man, I was not even remotely aware or concerned with any form of fashion. Anyone who has known me over the years can attest to that. In fact, my earliest memories of even having a clue what I was wearing, was the summer between my senior year of high school and my freshmen year of college. My mom (who maybe is not blameless in all of this) suggested I might want to purchase some new clothes for college. I had no clue what was wrong with the clothes I currently had, but she talked to a friend who had a son in college, and somehow I ended up with a couple of “college” IZOD shirts. Yeah, I know you remember when they were the thing. I do believe I may have been wearing one of these when I met Tina (my wife).

Through the years since then, and with use of the covert agents (one is 21, the other is 15), I have gradually become a little more fashion aware. Not near enough to please the powers that be, as evidenced by a statement just yesterday by one of my daughters. I walked out wearing a pair of shorts that I was going to sleep in and she said something like, “Dad, what year in the 80s did you get those shorts”? I took note of that, but I still did not care enough to change. I hope I never get to that point, but I am so much closer than I ever thought I would be.

I realized this the other day when I entered agent number 2’s room, where Tina and agent number 1 were sifting through 2’s closet, packing some things for a trip to Texas. They were looking at dresses, and I’m not sure why this topic came up, but the conversation went something like this:

1: “I wish I had big boobs”.
Me: “Try toilet paper”.
1: “Hey, would that work?”
Me: “Why am I having this conversation with my daughter”?
This was followed by laughter by Tina and 1.

So then Tina pulls out two skirts and a top (notice I didn’t say shirt, that was so me 25 years ago).
Tina: “Does this top go with either of these skirts?”
Me: “No, it’s too busy. You need a solid top, not one with patterns.”

You see, the skirt had patterns, and unless the top had the same patt…..wait, AHHHGGGG.

Anyway, since it wasn’t until later that I realized what had gone on in that room, I didn’t scream. Instead, I continued with various fashion topics of conversation. Finally, the realization of my integration into femininity came when Tina pulled out a pair of 2’s sneakers:
1: “Ooooh…I like those, can she still wear them?”
Tina: “No, she’s outgrown them”
Me: “You don’t wear sneakers; you’re a flip-flop and high heel girl.”

This last statement by me was 100% accurate and scares me that I would even know that. What else have they managed to subconsciously sneak into the unused portions of my brain? Can I make a soufflé” or will I eat quiche? Will I someday find myself soaking in some sweet smelling bathwater with candles all around? Will I someday be picking the winner of the Super Bowl based on the team colors?

One final thought. I could have named this particular blog, thongs and high-heels, and probably received many more hits from the search engines, but my fashion consciousness just wouldn’t let me revert to that 80s terminology.