Leggings and Listening

Many of you have heard of a company that sells clothing on a direct sales platform, wholesale to the consultant who sells it for retail. I was first introduced to this company by a member of my downline team, who decided to join the clothing company last winter.
Now, the business model is such that there is a limited number of pieces cut from any particular print of fabric. So it makes the product appealing because of how unique the pieces are. It's mass-production but limited due to the choice of materials. There is a definite draw to it because of the uniqueness. Along with it comes some level of crazy but that's going to happen no matter where you go anymore.

I could talk about the cut of the styles, the fabrics, etc. if you're a fan, I don't need to explain it. If you're not or you never heard of it, all I can say is you need to put your hands on it and wear it to comprehend it. I can't do it justice with my words. It's midnight and I've been busy, so the pistons are shutting down quickly here. But I will tell you the clothing is COMFORTABLE. Seriously, I almost crawled in bed wearing one of the dresses a couple weeks ago.

I was talking with a friend and it occurred to me there was more drawing women to these clothes than the rare find prints, the extreme comfort, the versatility, etc. In the past many years, dare I say over a decade, clothing for women has become more insulting to our intelligence (sizing and fit issues anybody?), more revealing, and mothers across the country are begging the question: "Why do retailers offer skimpy clothing for our daughters, but our sons can find the same standard clothes?" Just do a handy internet search of your own to find any number of blogs and articles lamenting the double standard in what is offered. We have shorter and shorter hemlines being offered to both women and girls. I can't take my daughters shopping without having to nix most of the choices, or stipulate that a camisole must be worn under something because of a fault in the design that doesn't meet our dress standard. And to be clear, we are not horridly strict here. Our girls and I have long femur bones, so it's even more difficult to find shorts that cover where we deem that they should. We have curvy parts that require extra fabric to dress those areas. It's not an option to allow otherwise. We don't do sheer and see-through where a swim team bathing suit would cover. We don't even need to discuss necklines, do we? If I can see cleavage from my vantage point, I am not comfortable wearing it. It's that simple. The way I move, and doing the kind of work I do, that kind of neckline puts me at the edge of sharing parts of me that I do not wish to share.

The revelation I had this evening was that this company is such a draw to women because they offer clothing that fits a variety of ways, is versatile, fun, and here's the biggest thing - it's MODEST. None of these pieces are excessively short, low cut, or scant. Yet, when I wear the pieces, my husband swoons because they flatter my figure, and he thinks it makes me more beautiful, and even sexy. It might be that I'm also insanely comfortable in what I'm wearing, and not tugging, pulling, or checking for exposure. If I have to fight with my clothes, I won't wear it. I fight with enough other more important stuff in my world. The things I wear aren't a priority for fighting.

Women have an option versus the ones offered in stores, and they are voting with their dollars. I'm sure the big box retailers are surveying the landscape and discerning why their bottom line is affected. The reality is that they have been failing us for many many years, our complaints have fallen on deaf ears, and now that we can find something they don't offer and we've been wanting, even begging them to provide, we are taking our business elsewhere.

The gift of a wardrobe

There was a post in my crackbook feed several months ago, proffering the contents of a closet being culled as the owner worked her muscles into compact form and these fell off her. I'd just had a baby, and faced the potential of a wardrobe challenge over the coming year. With each subsequent baby, my body takes its sweet time to go back to something smaller. Here, the heavens were opening up before me, and someone was blessing me with something I needed so very much. I took what I could use and passed along the rest to someone else.

I was going to be traveling through multiple seasons with a not-pre-baby-size body, and I trusted that it would be a short lived transitional wardrobe. I would be ok with being the size I am now, because I know I'd be more in line with an "average" size, and it might actually be easier to find things that fit me. Somehow clothiers think my pre-baby size equals twig, not scenic tour with curved roads. I wasn't willing to buy a whole new wardrobe at retail for potentially one season. I wasn't willing to buy out of season on clearance hedging bets on what size and shape I would be for that future season. I still don't know where my body is going to land, so I still can't hedge bets for later.  My luck, I'd buy a size down and my butt would refuse to go any smaller. There are some things that no self-respecting mother should ever allow her clothes to do to her.

This gift was an answer to a whispered prayer for future need. That future is the current moment and season. I have been wearing the 3 pair shorts from that bundle so much that I've killed the hems and have to re-hem them all. They are my "uniform", and literally get worn daily. Today was just below Hell Hot, and I could wear a pair of the pants. Like usual, I have ghetto bootie gap because of my curves. I've killed my belt with that issue. As I was changing into my pajamas tonight, I was feeling extraordinarily grateful for pants that fit, albeit a smidge loose. Far better they are loose than too snug! Between the pants from that bundle, and a seriously awesome pair of shoes from another friend, plus the shirt I found on clearance while I was still pregnant (that was a safe bet to make, pants not so much), I looked pulled together at church today. I felt like a grownup, and not a schlub. As a liturgical minister on hiatus, I am seen and known at church, whether I know everyone or not. Therefore, I am an example to others. As such, I should be the good example, not the horrible warning. As a business woman, my appearance does matter to those who may eventually do business with me. If I look like a bag of butt, people will treat me as such.

It may seem like a simple thing to the giver. She was just clearing out the stuff that was too big. But to the recipient, it has been a literal God-send. I am able to pull together outfits, and dress professionally where needed. I can take kids to appointments or school functions and not embarrass my offspring or myself. I can wear shorts that aren't cotton elastic gym clothes because that was my only other option short of consignment shopping, which is always a crap shoot regardless.

And thanks to another generous friend with big feet and excellent taste in shoes, I have some seriously cute shoes that go with almost everything. Pregnancy changed my feet too, and I killed some shoes, but my feet have followed the same path my hips have. So several pairs of my shoes still don't fit me, or they are no longer comfortable to wear. This will come as sacrilege to some, but there are only so many occasions that flip-flops can be worn.

Anyone who has that one outfit that makes them feel super, powerful, or gives a new posture, knows how important it is to feel good in the fabric dressing your person. So when you're clearing the closet, and passing it on, you really ARE blessing someone else in more ways than you might imagine. In short, I don't just have clothes and shoes. I really do have a functional wardrobe. If you knew me 15 or 20 years ago, you know how monumental this is. And if you know me at all, you know how swollen with gratitude my heart is that I have this gift, and that people shared it with me.

Satin and Ripples

 

Devildog has a friend who is a member of the Navy League. For the last 20 years, the Navy League has marked the commemoration of the World War II battle at Midway Island. There is extensive fundraising involved to cover the costs of the event. The ticket prices don't even cover the entire cost. They rely on donations and sponsorships to make it happen. Devildog's friend sponsored a table at last year's event, and invited us to it. I got dressed up in a formal I'd worn to a Marine Corps Birthday Ball 13 years earlier (yes it still fit) and we had a great time. I was also humbled and amazed by the stories of true heroism, and real surviving at is most intense level. So, of course, this year I wanted to go again. First of all, I love dressing up and second - what better reason than honoring these heroes? I started dress shopping almost 2 months beforehand and was coming up bust. I couldn't afford much, and then there are fit issues, made worse by what has amounted to a longer recovery than I expected from a motorcycle accident. After trying on probably 50 dresses, I finally found a dress on shopgoodwill.com cheaper than anything I was finding even in the local second-hand stores. It arrived in the nick of time, but the hot pink shoes I was thinking I could wear didn't work. So I had to search for shoes that fit my paltry budget, AND my not so dainty feet. It took several days, and trying on about 30 pairs of shoes before I found something that fit both my budget and my feet, and didn't clash with the dress. I think I'm just going to start shopping now for next year's dress. I find things more easily when I'm not pressed for time and the really good deals are going to be available later in the year, more so than at the peak of prom shopping season. Then you add the task of accessories, and I was about to go crazy with my perfectionism complicated by the budget. I have found items that hopefully will be able to use for a few years. My aunt Rita accidentally left some things at my house back in 2005 when she was here for my mother's funeral, and I took the liberty of wearing a bracelet she left behind. I figured that she wouldn't mind, and it was kind of like having a connection to my family's military roots present as well. My mother's father, three half brothers, and two nephews served in some capacity. My father spent a few years as an Army orderly at the end of WWII, with his iron stomach and hardy Irish immunity, in the sick wards with guys who "drank the water" as my dad puts it. My husband, his father, grandfather, and a slew of other relatives on his side served in the military. Needless to say, there is a strong connection for us to this event, and why we feel compelled to go.
This year marked the 70th anniversary of that battle, occurring 6 months after the attack on Pearl Harbor. It was promised to be a big deal, and indeed it was.
At each table is seated a veteran who fought at the battle on Midway Island, was a former Prisoner of War, or is a wounded warrior of more recent military conflict. During the evening, each branch is honored and all over the room those who have served in any military capacity rise as the Navy Band plays a service song medley. Then things move on to honoring the veterans from Midway. These guys are now in their 90s for the most part. At this year's event was a 99 year old retired Rear Admiral, plus a Medal of Honor recipient from Vietnam. Most of the ones in attendance are still ambulatory, have their wits about them, and will flirt with anyone they can - because they can.

This year's Midway Veterans, keynote speaker, and nearby base commanders.
(Photo: J. Vargo)

This year our Wounded Warrior was Stephen & his wife Kimberly. I didn't get much of his story, as it's still a raw and ongoing situation for them. But he was injured in "The Sandbox" as it's become known, and is now working as a funeral director. They're expecting their first child, and they can't wait to finally meet him.
Last year, the honoree at our table was Captain Richard Stratton. He was a POW for 2,551 days. This year's bio that was read to us was not nearly as interesting as last year's. As it was told to us, he and other POWs in Vietnam were forced to be part of propaganda videos stating that they were being well taken care of, when in fact, it was everything otherwise. In one of the videos the then-Lt. Commander was forced to make, he was reading the script, and out of sight of the captors but caught on film, he extended the middle fingers of both hands. At that point, I understood why a bunch of ruffians from the softball team got seated with this particular veteran. He lives near the commissary where Devildog works (too bad the leadership makes it a sucktacular experience), and Capt. Stratton makes a point to find reason to tease Devildog any time he's in the store.
Also at this year's event was photographer William "Bill" Roy. He was on the Yorktown (CV-5) at Midway. He was capturing images of the battle when the Yorktown was hit, and began to sink. The abandon ship order came, and Bill stuffed as many film canisters as he could into his life vest and jumped into the water. He was picked up by another ship, and captured images of the Yorktown as it sank in the Pacific Ocean. Those images have been used in numerous publications over the years. Mr. Roy was snapping pictures of the displays just seconds before Devildog asked to have his picture taken with Mr. Roy.
I am looking forward to going again next year, and again enjoying an evening of delicious dinner, gratitude, humility, stories of heroism, and making a new friend. I have told several other people about this event, and I'm hoping that there is some result to my efforts to get word out about the Navy League's endeavor to honor those who have served and continue to serve in the military. I didn't know about it till last year, and it was the largest-attended event last year. This year, the event had 830 in attendance, which is a new record. It is a small note in the history books, and I was able to be part of it. But those being honored are a far bigger and more important part of history. At the time though, they were just simply doing their jobs, and doing what had to be done to survive, and never imagined their actions in those single moments would carry the major impact it has. It just goes to show how in an instant, one minor decision you make could have some serious ripple effect that reaches farther than anyone ever truly knows.

So, if you can't find, or can't get to a Midway Dinner near you, find your nearest Navy League auxiliary, and consider a donation to help them make these events across the country possible. Sponsor a table, sponsor the hotel accommodations for one of the veterans, sponsor the tickets for an honoree, or any portion of the expense it takes to commemorate a battle that turned the tables on World War II, honors the aging members of The Greatest Generation and their contributions to it, as well as giving credence and honor to those who served in Vietnam, Korea, and the Middle East. These Midway Vets are around 90 years old or older, and the simplest "thank you" makes them smile. Imagine their pride swelling as a room full of people give them a standing ovation, grateful for their presence on that day in history, and in that room.  For some, this year's dinner will be their last, as their health fails, and their bodies expire in the circle of life.

Zumba & Midway Island

My Saturday was totally exhausting. For starters, my friend Jackie teaches Zumba at a gym near her house across the big ditch from me. I've been interested in this fitness thing, but just haven't gone to a class. So, Jackie talked to Father H and worked it out so that whatever is collected at the door for class fees, would get donated to the church for something. Today's class was to help fund VBS. Jackie took it easy on us, and it kicked my gringa butt. But it works all the areas I need to reshape after the Blur-baking flabbed it out for me. Plus the chiropractor has been after me to rebuild my core muscles. So this would make him happy too. I can see why it's so popular.
Then I rested, cleaned my kitchen, and next thing I knew, it was time to get dressed for the Midway Dinner. The local Navy League branch puts on this big dinner to commemorate the Victory at Midway Island. There was even a record set as having the largest in attendance, totaling 624.
Dress was formal or business, and I debated what to wear. I didn't have time or budget to go shopping, and my luck nothing would've suited my preferences to leave cash and prizes to the imagination. I remembered the formals in my closet. Yes, I have dresses from high school. One was too big because I was pregnant with the oldest when I wore it, and one is quite honestly very dated looking. It either needs to meet a tailor or my daughter's dress up bin. There's the bridesmaid dress from SIL's wedding, but Devildog didn't want to see me in that again after I wore it for the wedding, and then Easter. (Yes, I went there. I wore the dress for Easter with a short sleeved sweater to cover my bare shoulders. I don't wear spaghetti straps to church either. I'm old school like that, just not at the point of veiling.) I didn't want to wear a black and red dress that I wore for Christmas that Devildog said he preferred. Do you see me rolling my eyes? Oh dang, will you catch my left one please before it rolls into traffic? Thanks.
Then, I remembered "oh wait! the one I wore to the Marine Corps Birthday ball!" The last time I tried it on, was several months after the Blur was born, and I still hadn't shed the hips enough to wear it. I nearly ripped seams. I never got around to consigning that one either. I am glad I kept it. It was open back though, which was a ballsy move for me 12 years ago when I wore it last. Having classic tastes pays dividends in the long term, and for cost-per-wear. I got the dress off season and dirt cheap. I think I paid $40 for it in October, because it was still in the store after the Spring prom season. It has a side split in the skirt, when at that point, everything had a split up the front of one leg. I remember that detail because I was mildly annoyed when I bought it that it didn't have a front split. But it was blue, and I look good in anything blue. This time, I tried it on, and it fit. I'd had 2 more babies since wearing it so I needed some help in the northern end of things. I didn't have time to take it to the seamstress for the sewn in boobs because I was trying to find shoes and a wrap for it, so I bought some sew in boobs at JoAnn and did it myself. It's far from a professional job. At least I wasn't directing traffic or looking like I'd had a mastectomy. I did do some power, mission-mode shopping to find shoes and a shawl - to no avail for either. I'm thankful for other big-footed friends with silver shoes, and my nearby JoAnn store having just enough navy chiffon & ample supply of steam-a-seam.
We had a good time, debaucherous group that we were. The friend that gave us tickets seated us with Dick Stratton. Most of the tables had a significant designee such as a POW, wounded warrier, or VIP of some sort. Ours had the most debaucherous POW, who spent almost the longest amount of time as a POW. When forced to make a propaganda video telling how well they were being treated, Mr. Stratton, out of sight of his captors and between his knees, extended both middle fingers on camera. At that point in the ceremonies, we understood why the softball goons got seated with that particular POW. We had a good time with Dick, and his wife Alice. Interestingly enough to me, Alice & I both wore long, navy blue dresses. Hers had way more sparkle to it though. I should've gotten pictures of that stuff, but didn't. I didn't think to get someone to take pictures of me and the Devildog, before he had enough alcohol to make his liver spasm. We did get a bartender to take a picture of us before we left.