When Cool Loses Its Cool
Belinda Says
When is cool no longer rad. fully sick. grouse. cool?
I guess the best way to judge if a term of phrase is really out of date, is if your parents use it. They’re like you’re best ‘before’ guide.
I immediately stopped saying things like Dude! when I heard my Mum say it. (Okay, so I still use it; but now I just sound like my Mum when I do). Not good.
I know she’ll be reading this blog, but she didn’t know at the time I felt like I wanted to crawl into the nearest hole when she talked like that in public.
I mean c’mon she is my MOTHER… they don’t talk like that.
And heaven forbid, she actually liked the music I did.
I remember a Reader’s Digest cassette she really liked playing in the car. At the time Salt ‘n’ Pepa (the band, not the stuff in the shakers) was huge and there was a song of theirs on this tape she’d play.
Ok... Now you're PUSHin' IT, Mum...
Loudly.
Down the main street.
Singing along.
With the damn windows down.
I think I wore out the wool on the seat cover trying to shimmy down far enough to hide my head in shame.
You see, the shoe is now on the other foot. I am learning why she did what she did.
I am the evil giggling proud parent of a tween daughter, who is just about to get to the age where my being myself will cause her great embarrassment.
I am beginning to realize the pure, unadulterated joy of causing such embarrassment to her.
I have no shame. What harm is it going to cause if I put my hair in pigtails with fluoro scrunchies and relive the 80’s as I remember them?
Return of the Scrunch
It’s back in style, what’s the problem?
I would look exactly the same today as I did in the 80’s. I’d be like all the other girls in their high-waisted, ripped jeans. *Steve Urkel laugh* ~ 
~Now I don’t ever remember seeing my Mum get that evil cheesy grin on her face when I groaned and hid my face from her (the same one I can feel growing on mine when my daughter rolls her eyes at me), but I’ll bet it was there. I just couldn’t see it because I was too busy looking out the window, pretending I didn’t know the crazy lady driving the car.
Now it’s your turn:
