Growing up, dressing myself was a lot like freedom of speech during the Bush Administration; You can say whatever you want, but someone is watching you, so you’d better not say the wrong thing. Thankfully, when I was dressing myself as a small child that person watching me was not Dick Cheney. However, I essentially had an arsenal of acceptable school clothes as established by my mother until entering 7th grade. Any deviation from established guidelines resulted in the wrath, and she had little tolerance for recidivism.
Usually when we went shopping for new clothes she’d listen to my input and the resulting wardrobe was not terribly offensive. There would be the occasional piece that she would purchase on her own, something she though looked “Nice” which translates to “On Sale.” But the worst of all wardrobe evils was Hand-Me-Downs. Growing up we didn’t have a ton of money, but what I did have was a cousin who was a few years older than me. The result was a steady flow of clothes coming my way at the beginning of every season and growth spurt.
The problem with not having money is that my mother inevitably decided to keep the Hand-Me-Downs. The economic necessity of the situation would cloud her judgment and everything became “just what he needs.” Trust me, I did not need a new Bugle Boy cardigan purchased 5 years prior in size “Husky.” I was not even a “Regular,” nay, I was a “Slim.” Inevitably though, those are the types of things that come down the Hand-Me-Down chain. A sparkling new pair of Body Glove shorts that look like they were worn on the set of ‘Wet Wild And Crazy Kids!’, a teal sweater that would make even Bill Cosby cringe. Honestly, look at this picture.
That leads me to my point, 300 or so words of context later. There are certain objects that you never want to get as Hand-Me-Downs. A handful of things, that almost never work out for the best, and who’s power over mothers is almost all encompassing!
-Sweaters- Sweaters that arrive to your house in a white garbage bag filled with “Previously Loved” clothing can bring tears to the eyes of any 8 year old. Mothers have an instinctual drive to keep their children warm. Fearful of their child ‘catching cold’, they often over dress their kids just in case. For this reason sweaters immediately create a warm feeling in a mothers womb, as they fall in love with the heat bringing power they have. Unfortunately Hand-Me-Down sweaters are infallibly hideous. If they looked good the original owner never would have gotten rid of them in the first place. As the temperatures of Northern New England dropped moms everywhere shove sweaters over their childrens heads, drying the crocodile tears as they stretch over their over-sized skulls.
-Anything That Matches- Mom’s also have an instinctive drive for matching. The moment they give birth to their first child they can’t help but make things match above all else. As is often the case with Hand-Me-Downs, they were clothes too ugly for normal people to wear, but if they match anything you own your mother would not be able to resist herself. In my own personal life it resulted in wearing maroon jeans with maroon shirts, green jeans with green shirts, blue jeans with blue shirts… you get the picture!
-Shoes- They will never, ever, ever, ever fit. If they are too big, you will never grow into them, you will somehow skip the exact size. Even if they would appear to be the right length they will always have the original owners foot imprints in the sole. Walking a mile in another shoes is entirely over rated.
-Clothes With The Tag Still On Them- Another irritable mom magnet are clothes that were handed down with the store tags still on them. No matter how ugly, unfitting, or strange smelling they are moms will still make you wear them… “Cause they still have the tags on them.” Parachute pants do not look good no matter what you do to them, no store tag can ever change that.
Sadly, as a potential future father, I will have no power to save my children from this wretched fate. They too will have to experience this on their own. I saw my own father shoot me empathetic looks as a sweater was pulled over a turtleneck, cringing powerless over my mothers drive to keep me warm. Everybody knows a dad stands no chance in interfering with a mothers instincts. I can only hope some day I have the means to buy my children new clothes, and shelter them from the terror of Hand-Me-Downs.
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