No, not "Pieces Of Me" like the execrable Ashlee Simpson song. Strictly for your blogging entertainment pleasure, I shall attempt to dissect myself for all the World to see. Please no snap photography or plaintive cries of, "AAARRRRGGGHHH! She blinded me with science!" Thank you for your cooperation. Bring on the formaldehyde! I desperately need self preservation.Ones choice in jewelry represents a visible outward expression of our personality and style. Many delineating factors can be taken away simply from eyeing what other people have draped themselves in. Chunky necklace "BLING" is synonymous with a certain cultural aspect just like James Avery charm rings meant you must have attended high school in the suburbs circa 1991. Strands of pearls enjoy an iconic First Lady connotation while many religions have their symbology represented through various pendants. Jewelry is often totally reflective of our lifestyle. Given that knowledge, this past weekend proved a perplexing and worrisome experience for me.
I'm just like that Adam Ant song, "Goody Two Shoes." I don't drink, don't smoke, none of your business what do I do. I'm also not tattooed nor do I sport a shiny pair of nipple rings. However, I used to be a bit wild before turning subservient (HA!) Mormon wife and Mother. President Hinckley admonished Church women for adorning themselves with more than one pair of earrings, but part of me feels like this is the last hellion bastion I have left. As such, I refuse to take out that second piercing. It reminds me of that small rebellious spark I once embraced before acquiescing to the mundane.
Mostly, I have a modestly conservative slant on fashion and jewelry, so absolute surprise overtook me when I walked into Blockbuster video and saw that the diminutive and obviously gay man working behind the counter had the exact same two earrings as me worn in the exact same way. I'm the Queen around here, how dare he show up in public wearing the same thing. I would have pulled the hair of that beyotch, but alas he's balding.
Irritated, I picked out a video and my family and I proceeded to Pancho's Mexican Buffet for dinner where a mammoth guy stood in line in front of us wearing boxer exposing saggy shorts, a Texans football jersey (loser), and lots of gold chains gangster style. Ummm, he also bore the same two earrings as me. My kids kindly noticed that too and pointed it out. "Hey Mom, that big dude is wearing your earrings!", at which point, big dude turned around and smiled at me. The humiliation came full circle while eating. From our viewpoint it looked like a tall cowgirl dressed in a lilac colored Western shirt festooned with swaying white fringe. We only caught a glimpse from behind as this person made their way down the fresh condiment bar. We marveled at the gorgeous purple cowboy hat and embroidered teal boots. Then, we noticed the earrings. Yep, the same two as mine. My son exclaimed, "Wow, look at that! A real live cowgirl." Slowly, the "cowgirl" turned around to glare at us where it was revealed that this was no cowgirl but instead a COWBOY. Well, at least a cowboy of The Village People persuasion. Oh, SNAP!
So, drawing a connection between jewelry exhibiting the truthfulness of our inner selves, does that mean I'm secretly harboring the internal feelings of a lisping homosexual man, a ghetto superstar wanna be poser, or a flaming cowboy getting ready to lasso him up something with his velvet rope to hog tie for the night? Hmmmmm.
As a sidenote, I did try to minimize my Elvis like sideburns when snapping this photo. Thank you, thank you very much. You've been a great audience.