The Bedbug Yuck

Okay, Peeps.   I am totally creeped out by the thought of bedbugs.

Since we travel sometimes, I have a little ritual I perform when we get in the room.

1. Check the bathroom for....icky.

2.  Take the spread off the bed and fold neatly throw it in the corner.

3.  Check under the bed for bodies.   That is a long story I'll tell another time.   It didn't happen to me.

4.  Check the floor to see if I can put my feet on it.   Usually not.  I always take flip flops.

5.  Check and see if the glassware is clean.

Sometimes there is more but I won't bore you.  If I am not flying I might or might not take lysol, wipies, and

scrubbing bubbles.

Now I've got to check for bedbugs, too?   Oh gosh.   Do I take my own sheets?   My own pillows?

Do they make bedbug spray?

I'm itching as we speak.

Today I am hearing on the news that the bedbug infestation is now in clothing stores... AWWWWG

Not that I go shopping that much, but I do browse.    Can they just jump out on you?    Can you see them?

This information has temporarily ruined me.

I'm washing sheets and blankets as we speak.

Be back later when I have somewhat recovered.

Perspective

Hello, Peeps.

Or Peep. I think I have one reader left after all this time.

I've been busy.

I'm been taking a crash class in Marriage 101 to a South African. I have learned a lot.

I have now known Mr. Wonderful for one year. Our wedding anniversary is coming up in a few weeks. Unconventional, I admit, but a year of many blessings.

Mr. Wonderful traveled the world before coming to America 12 years ago. Since we married last September, we have traveled to 5 countries. Wow.

I have learned so much about other cultures, poverty, eating habits, blessings, and dare I say it...budget travel.

I have had some of the best times of my life.

Some observations.

Most people have either a fascination about America, or they could care less.

Where Americans are not well received, Mr. Wonderful speaks Afrikaans and I keep my mouth shut. When the person can't speak Afrikaans, they all switch to English and everyone is happy. I keep my mouth shut.

People are people everywhere. Mothers love their children and worry about them. Everyone is trying to make a living. People use what they have to make homes and clothing. Everyone needs clean drinking water.

Everywhere we traveled we ran into Christians. I just love that. God just places them in your path EVERYWHERE. That is so comforting.

I am not naive enough to think we are in the majority everywhere, but we were blessed to meet and speak to many wonderful believers.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about the travels and the people I have observed.

I met disabled people, poor people, wealthy people, sick people, farmers, businesspeople, professional people (can I say people one more time) goat herders,
ostrich farmers, and ladies that carry goods on their heads to sell their homemade wares. These people were HAPPY. POSITIVE. HOPEFUL. GIVING.

I hope I have become a better person from my association with these people.

I have a message to someone who is on the periphery of my life. You will recognize yourself.
Please knock that chip off your shoulder. The world is not against you. You are not more or less spiritual than anyone else. Jump off that pedestal you put yourself on and look around.

You are not always right. LEARN TO FORGIVE AND FORGET. Choose to be happy. Most of all, forgive yourself. Mistakes in the past are IN THE PAST. Don't lose relationships with your family members, children, and friends you keep pushing away.

Quit bad-mouthing your "enemies" to anyone who will listen and give you some fake sympathy. You might have to eat those words and they are not tasty.

GET A HAPPY LIFE.

Love you, my peep (s). Posting pictures when I figure out how.

Name Changing Woes...

I whine alot.

Sorry, Peeps.

I recently married Mr. Wonderful and began the arduous process of changing my legal name.

Most of the items, driver's license, passport, social security, etc., were pretty straightforward.

Most other things...banks, credit cards... were a snap.

But Peeps, IF YOU MAKE CHANGES TO YOUR CABLE SERVICE...WATCH OUT!

First of all, it requires a personal appearance. That's not so unusual.
But when the change began...we have lost our phone, cable, internet...over and over for a week.

It still isn't fixed.

Everytime I call tech support they are very sweet and tell me it shouldn't be this difficult...duh? I know that.

My frustration level is in turbo drive.

Then, I had to call the travel people with questions about our tickets to South Africa. They took a message...never called me back. Go to their on-line site and you can get "live support". That is, until they are tired of talking to you and then they just turn you off and ignore you.

Very frustrated, I called the airline. Nope. No help there.

Finally, we just totally changed our flight plans to a more reliable and helpful airline.

Does customer support have to be so difficult? Is most of it from...overseas?
Heaven help you if you push the wrong button on your touch tone phone.

Sorry for venting. I feel much better.

Unplug this post for 15 minutes and perhaps it will reboot and give you a new one.

Good luck with that.

Forget the Flip Flops...My Teeth Are GNASHING!

I know The Queen B and I share some Peeps.

Well, actually, she had the Peeps and I just lured them over here to read Beachy Mimi.

There are few subjects we won't tackle in public...but there are a few.

B is a super young woman despite mistakes made my her mama during her life.

I haven't commented much on the LaP adoption because I felt it was their story to tell until I get my hands on her and take over as I have fought to do with The Princess heh heh Believe me, The Princess is a much more well rounded individual due to her Mimi influence.

While The Palace is choosing to take the high road in this lastest setback, Beachy Mimi's road is a little bit lower down and not paved, so basically I can say what I want.

God is in control. That is the basis of my life. I know that He can change situations in an instant if He chooses.

Throughout all my years involved with churches and working with people, I have run in to a few that seem to forget they were "called" by God and in fact, they are NOT God.
A MINOR POINT THAT TOTALLY CHANGES THE FOCUS OF A MINISTRY.

Please joing me in praying for LaP's safety and for the one who has decided no more adoptions will occur for any reason.

God started this whole thing...and He will be faithful to complete it. In His Time.

So, I can have my temper fit, rant and rave, but God still has a time schedule, and since He is the Boss of me, I respect (though maybe not understand) His timing.

I also know that whatever He has in store for LaP is better than anything we would do on our own.

I've Got The Power!

Yes, Peeps. I now have power to the computer and the internet.

Not for long. Maybe long enough to get this posted.

First, thank you for all the prayers on the behalf of Queen B and The Palace. They and others like them are really in a mess right now.

A tree fell on G.'s house--through the roof-- and another fell on his son's car--breaking the windshield and denting the hood.

This is sort of a NWA version of a hurricane or something. We get some of these ice storms about every 10 years or so and our infrastructure is just not equipped to cope with all the damage.

This has taught me a good lesson. When I return from Florida (sorry B) I plan to fix up a disaster kit with all the necessary tape, water, tools, chainsaw?

Those of you who went through Katrina, Ike or some other natural disaster know how difficult it is for people unable to work (no work=no pay).

They all need our prayers.

Now, I wish to address another topic. G. G. and the tacky comment left by Anonymous on the NOT AGAIN! post.

Did you know that when you sign as anonymous, I can still look you up so I know who you are.

I am not being disrespectful of G. He has a great sense of humor and is still laughing over me asking to see his toes. He knows he needs some "rehabilitation" because he has been alone for 4 years. He is a happy camper and yes, I have done some very nice things for him. I just told him that Valentine's Day was his chance to really shine. I think he will probably cook for me and I think that is great.

The personal attacks? Whatever. That person doesn't know me AT ALL.

That person can also BITE ME and move on to another blog that makes them happy.

Sorry, Peeps. I wasn't even going to mention it but Evil Beachy Mimi got the best of me.

More tales from the beach later....

Woe Woe Woe and Boo Hoo

TRAUMATIZED, PEEPS, BEACHY MIMI IS TRAUMATIZED!!!!

If I weren't high on dental drugs I probably wouldn't tell all this...hang on. This could get long and painful (as in boring).

I did not sleep because of the THROBBING MOUTH. Even with the drugs. They just kept me awake. When Beachy Mimi does not get sleep...she is Miserable. When BM is Miserable...things don't flow smoothly in this house.

Since I had No Sleep, I called the Parental Unit at the crack of dawn to see if she wanted to go eat breakfast at IHOP and run errands. PU LOVES IHOP. LOVES.

PU's Sunday School class (they call themselves "The Pairs and Spares") eat there together at least once a month with the preacher. He pretends to listen to their suggestions. But that is a whole other story. This is all about Me.

I got up, showered, fixed my hair and put on Makeup. Yes, I truly did. It has been so long since I have worn Makeup...I had a Baseline at my jaw. Tacky.

I go to the closet. I got some jeans out, the same size I always wear, and they WOULDN'T ZIP OR BUTTON. I pulled. I tugged. I lay on the bed and sucked in as hard as I could. Nope. Nada. No Zippo.

I was So Upset I refused to take them off ( I totally blame the drugs). So I got a big fat RUBBER BAND and ran it around the button, through the button hole and looped it back around the button for closure. Am I Classy? What was I thinking? Have I just lost it? A RUBBER BAND at the button hole? I was just so pi**** uh upset they wouldn't fit.

So like a hillbilly I WORE THEM THAT WAY ALL DAY. What was I trying to prove? That I am a stubborn idiot?

So, I pull on a sweater to cover up my handiwork and proceed to go to IHOP to eat breakfast. That really makes sense. I'm sure everyone could see my unzipped, rubber band STRAINING pants. I disgust myself.

PU and I ran many many errands and finally decided to get our "nose and tails" done
as the Princess used to call it (nails and toes).

Oh, I forgot to mention that I wore my new black Uggs today and that was another reason I didn't want to change out of my black jeans. Does it really matter if the jeans are black or regular blue jeans? I think not.

TOLD YOU THIS WAS LONG AND PAINFUL.

So, the nail place is a challenge on my best day. The girls are So Sweet...but Nosy. Very Nosy.

I walk in and Mary (nail tech) says, "You pants not zipped." Yep. She's right.
I hop in the chair and take off the New Black Uggs and my feet and ankles are BLACK.
As in dyed black from the shoes. Mary screams. I cuss. She scrubbs my feet until the water turns black. PU is snickering in the corner.

We eventually move to the nail desk where I start getting the third degree on my "boyfriend" that I don't have. Mary asks (again), "You live with Mama?" I remind her (again) that I live alone and have no boyfriend. She pats my hand in sympathy. I kinda cuss a little more in my head.

Mary proceeds to scold me about the state of my cuticles. What did she expect from a person with unzipped pants and black feet? She says I must dip them in hot wax.

Then she starts in about my eyebrows. They ALWAYS want to do something to my thicker (than theirs) eyebrows. I divert her to my upper lip instead. I disgust myself (again) that I have to get my lip waxed.

A total of THREE nail techs come over to discuss where to put the little cloth over the wax and just how hard they are supposed to yank it off. In Vietnamese. Rapidly. Loudly. I started to yank it myself since I have experience with the WAXING HARLOT. I'm an old pro. The girls decide who will yank and how hard and then it is over.

PU continues snickering at the nail drying table.

Next, Mary leads me to the hand wax dipper (OTHER FOR FOOT. NO USE!) and tells me to dip 3 times. Well...there is the biggest dead waxy horsefly (not housefly...HORSEFLY) already present in the wax.

I point to the fly. Mary shakes her head and says, "you dip".

I say, "There's a fly in the wax."

Mary says, "He dead. You dip."

I guess she thought that a person with rubber band fastened pants and black feet shouldn't be so picky. I decided she was right and I dipped. I may or may not have cussed a little under my breath as I did it.

We finally finished and left. PU was totally entertained the whole time. As we are getting in the car, I look up and ALL the nail techs are at the window watching us get in the car and all are talking at the same time. I guess it was a slow day.

I'm home now. Tomorrow I have to go present something to the Headmaster at the Princess' school.

None of my pants will fit over my too large self. The rubber band trick will not pass muster with her. It's already an embarassment that I'm even going to BE there.

The only sweater that fits has horizontal stripes. What was I thinking? Flat GIRLS can wear horizontal stripes, but NOT ginormous GIRLS.

I have to go shopping in the morning because I sat here all summer wearing knit and elastic and didn't realize MY CLOTHES DON'T FIT ME NOW. I am Seriously P**** Upset.

There are not many things worse than having to shop for a larger size.

This also creates a problem for my Thursday night event. But more on that later.

Did I mention that they left the wax on my lip so long it blistered? Yes. It Did.
Lovely.

I actually look worse than Oliver.

I may or may not still be cussing just a little bit.

I'm Baaack!!

Hello, my Peeps! I've missed you so!!

After much thought, Beachy Mimi decided to remain Beachy Mimi for now. I'm working on another blogsite and it is so stinkin' cute. However, I will not go without telling my Peeps where to find me. Since it's anonymous and all.

One of my Precious Peeps summed it up better than I could. She said, "Everyone needs a little BM everyday." hahahahahahahteeeheeeeharharhar

Ain't it the truth.

So, whether I'm BM, QM, OCD, or XXP, I'm not going anywhere.

The plain fact is, no one is forcing anyone to read this blog. There. I said it. What I really want to say is, "Bite ME", but that is really tacky and I would never do that.

I have stated before that my Bloggy Mission Statement is simply to point out some of the humor in life. People blog for different reasons and they are all okay. I wouldn't dream of telling someone else what to write or not write, and I've read some pretty gross stuff.

And another thing, I'm not teaching grammar and puncutation here. So take the ,.!;:"'and put them wherever you think they need to go. Feel free.

As far as etiquette...HUH? Bloggy etiquette? Oh, please. Get a life.

One of the, shall we say..detractors...criticizes my bloggy etiquette. Just remember when you point your finger at someone, there are three pointing right back at you.

So, BM is here to stay!!

I could say lots more but I keep remembering one of my mottos, "just because you can doesn't mean you should."

Enough of that.

How are my Peeps? Have you voted yet? I took advantage of the early voting opportunity along with hundreds of other fellow citizens. I'm glad to have it out of the way. Besides, I'm going to the BEACH for a couple of weeks and maybe when I get home all the political stuff will be off the tv and I can concentrate on the Amazing Race.

I think I could so do the Amazing Race. After all, I love to travel and I sure don't sleep...hmmm I may think about that. I could use a million bucks. Or, even ten bucks...

Tomorrow I think I'll do a Thanksgiving Giveaway so be sure to sign up!

I appreciate your loyalty more than I can ever express.

I love my Peeps!!

Turn Out The Lights...The Party's Over

Well, it has been a fabulous month for me. I appreciate everyone who participated, left comments, sent well-wishes and many other random acts of kindness. Thank you so much. Beachy Mimi feels so spoiled!

I was going to have one last Palooza today, but something happened to upset the Beachy House and I'm going to save that giveaway for a later time.

I am a small town girl. Small town as in safe.

I've only been locking my car for a couple of years. I didn't have to.

Recently (yesterday), I traveled to a Large Town to celebrate and do a little shopping/browsing. This Large Town is known for thievery and car break ins.
A good friend has had her car window broken out and her purse stolen twice.

Therefore, I don't leave anything of value in the car...ever. Especially my purse.

Today, I got a new lesson in paying attention to my surroundings.

When I go in a store with a shopping cart, I almost always put my purse in the cart where the small child would sit. I'm right there with it so it is safe...right? Notsomuch.

Today, someone who apparently does this often...was watching for a chance. While a back was turned for a few seconds...someone took the wallet out of the purse.

Peeps, this is a Devastating Thing. Most of us have our whole lives in our wallets.

The theft was not discovered until it was time to pay up at the check-out.

By the time the purse-owner got her husband on the phone (he happened to be on-line), the thieves had made 4 purchases on a credit card. A time-span of maybe 15-30 minutes.

Wow.

The police were called and they came to file a report. The officer said this happens all the time and the thieves work in groups that are very well organized. They know exactly how to steal, get out of the store and use the credit cards (and where they can get away with using them) before the wallet is even missed by the owner.

That's just flat scary.

I learned some hard but very valuable lessons today.

Carry only a purse that zips on top.

Keep it zipped at all times.

Never place your purse in a shopping cart.

Never leave your purse in the car, even if the car is locked.

Don't carry your social security card in your wallet. Identity theft is real.

Bad people may be watching you for an opportunity...pay attention to who and what is around you at all times.

Peeps, I just have a bad feeling that as the economy gets tougher, thieves are going to be more plentiful and bolder to separate you from your belongings.

Be Very Careful.

O My!...A BMBM

For those of you who are new...BMBM is Beachy Mimi's Beauty Musings...we haven't done one in a while. I also use that because it REALLY freaks out Queen B when I say BM. Heh Heh

While this post doesn't exactly have anything to do with beauty, except for the beauty OF it, it has more to do with women's health and well-being.

This is how I got here.

A VERY nice lady from church was talking--(not confidentially)--about her sister who has been married 42 years. During the conversation...I'm not exactly sure how...she mentioned that the sister had never had the BIG O. Wow.

As the BIG O has been absent from my life for a couple of years now, I cannot imagine this poor woman going 42 years without.

SHAME ON HER HUSBAND

I totally believe it is 99.999999999999999999999% the husband's responsibility to be
the leader here. Let's just say...in the driver's seat.

In fact, if we explained to husbands and used a car analogy, maybe they would get it.

I realize that most of you don't have a problem in this area. Wonderful! But there are alot of women who do. I have one acquaintance whose husband only wants relations ONCE A YEAR. They've been married 15 years. Even then there is no O in her alphabet. I think people would be so surprised at what does and does not go on behind closed doors.

Back to the car. Tell the husband that you can have a...manual transmission. According to my gyn, this is the way about 75% of women roll.

However, he (the gyn) says that if you are...in alignment...with proper...torque...your automatic transmission comes in to play. He says very few women experience this.

Believe me, I have faked reaching "high C" (think piano and singing) enough to win an Oscar, Emmy and Tony Award. Probably not the best route to take.

There are some wonderful Christian books on the subject. Beth Moore even led a study with her women's group about this subject, so it's OKAY to talk about it.

The problem is, women read...men usually don't. Underline passages. Hand him the book. You may think it will hurt his feelings, but he would MUCH rather you be happy and he will get over it.

It's healthy, normal and a total gift from God.

One of my friend's parents have 12 children and the husband has NEVER seen his wife unclothed. Okay, that is just not normal. Obviously from another generation. Like my grandparents. I'm sure they never had relations, either. EWWW!

Here's hoping you have a Capital O in YOUR alphabet.

Note to Queen B, I guess there ARE worse letters than BM. Now you will have to include O in that!!

I Interrupt This Bloggy Break...

I just have to. Can't let this observation go by without commenting.

Are you watching the Olympics? I am. I love watching the determination and concentration of the faces of the athletes.

Friday night was the opening ceremony. Wow. Just, wow. The announcer said that several million dollars MORE was spent on this one ceremony that the one held in Athens. I have never seen anything like it. The commentator agreed he had never seen such an elaborate display and that Olympiadom would probably not see another like this in our lifetime.

Now, Beachy Mimi is all about bling, and more is MORE. I just couldn't enjoy it as much because I kept thinking of all the earthquake sufferers still there and all the people that are starving and suffocating-cough, cough,-in the pollution.

The unison of their movements were precise as anything I've ever seen. If they had messed up, would they have disappeared forever? I know the people have a tremendous amount of pride for their culture and country. But the lost souls? It just breaks my heart.

Today I've watched beach volleyball, let's just say I'd have issues with the sand in my suit, a big bicycle race and swimming.

Swimming makes me so hungry...even if someone else is doing it. I'm going for a snack now.

More Olympic Updates, later, Peeps.

*UPDATE*
I love the Olympics and thought the Chinese did a fantastic job. I do hope that the Olympics will open and help their country.

Escape, At Last

Chomp, chomp, chew, chew. Hi, Peeps! Beachy Mimi here, eating my words about the Propane Convention.

I actually had lots of (wine) fun.

The people there were so nice. Not a snob in the bunch. Just a group of people getting together to get the requirements out of the way and having a good time while doing so. No obnoxious drunks, either, which is unusual for most conventions that are not Christ-related.

The PROPANE STYLE SHOW was precious. The ladies LOVED it. It didn't matter that the styles were...different. Everyone had a big smile and there was tons of joking and laughter.
And wine...but we won't go there.

The talent show was a hoot. Lots of country/western singing and playing. Very good sports.
The highlight of the evening was the appearance of a 70 year old fake Elvis. TOO FUNNY.
The guy next to me said, "I believe he's better than the real Elvis!" Huh? What?

One very funny note to the weekend. As parents, the desire to protect and help our children never leaves us...apparently. All mothers want to make things all-better for their children whatever their age.

Enter the Parental Unit.

PU and a friend thought they would be really cute to "set me up" with a guy my age they thought was "nice". Oh, brother.

Obviously, PU has not done much of this "setting up" because she didn't realize there needs to be RESEARCH DONE.

Oh yeah, the guy doesn't know anything about it either. They think they will introduce us and
TA DA. Instant attraction.

So, at this dinner, PU casually says, "Beachy, I want to introduce you to Urkel."

She and her match-making buddy begin to look for Urkel in the crowd. After a few minutes, someone tells her, "Urkel left. His 22 year old girlfriend is having a baby."

Okay. That's just wrong on so many levels.

I gave the PU the "stare".

ME: "What are you up to?"

PU: "I just wanted you to meet Urkel. He's a nice boy."

Translation. Nice boy=man that says hello to an 85 year old and holds the door open for her.

ME: "That's up for debate."

PU: "Well, I think he's nice."

ME: "Did the whole part about the baby and 22 year old girlfriend just whiz on by?"

PU: "Well, I didn't know."

ME: "Did you think of maybe...CHECKING?"

PU: "No. He's never mentioned having a girlfriend."

ME: "Please, NO MORE HELP."

Now I remember why parents don't get to pick the spouse.

The MAN

THE Man...he has not called.
The Man...he has not called at all.
Beachy Mimi is so sad.
Actually, Beachy Mimi is good and p*ed, err MAD.

The MAN was given every opportunity to adore Beachy Mimi. I mean, what's not to love?

It couldn't be my age. The MAN is 10 years older than me. Besides, age is in your mind. I didn't see too many other Mimi's parasailing with their grandchildren.

Perhaps it was my love for spa activities and pampering. I thought I concealed that from him pretty well.

Could it be my OCD personality? Surely not. I don't think he has conversed with QUEEN B.

The Parental Unit offered to introduce me to "a nice boy from church". It just so happens that the "boy" is 6'6", and 350 pounds. Beachy Mimi could be suffocated. I'm just sayin...

Now I realize from my earlier post that God is just protecting me from something worse on down the line. But Peeps, Beachy Mimi's heart is TENDER, and CRUSHED, and BRUISED, and BLEEDING, and BROKEN, and STOMPED ON. There has been is liquid streaming from my eye cavaties that have nothing to do with allergies. I'm sucking my thumb again. By morning I will be under the bed . Oh the DRAMA!!

Someone out there wants a shy dinner companion to listen to all his golf exploits and trophies he has won. Beachy Mimi is shy and timid hush B, and not overpowering in the least... Beachy Mimi is so docile, and sweet, and kind...hush, B.

Harry vs. THE FROG

I love Harry. I really do. Aside from the bad photography, he has a great

personality, and is the life of the party NOT. Anyway, I do love him.

I was minding my own business and I kept hearing a "thump thump" in my hallway. I just assumed that it was Harry playing with one of his many cat toys that he "bats" around with his paw.

Nope. Not. Even. Close.

It was a frog. A real, live, hopping frog. In my hallway. Coming toward me.

I'm basically not a squeamish person, but the thought of a frog in my house just totally grossed me out. I yelled for Harry. Nothing. I yelled again. Nothing. I step over the frog and go look for my 14 lb. killer cat. I found him. Hiding. Behind a door.

I pick him up and carry him to the frog location. I put him beside the frog and they just stare.

Finally the frog starts to hop and Harry jumps UP three feet. The frog continues hopping down the hall and Harry is now "slinking" or dragging his belly down the hall behind the frog, I hope in pursuit.

Nope. Not a chance.

The frog gets to the back door and I "help" him across the threshold, into the garage.

Now the frog in in the garage, out of the house, and I put Harry out there to do what cats are supposed to do when they are confronted with a small object that hops.

Nothing. I got nothing.

Harry rolled over on his back similar to the photo above so I could rub his fat tummy. Big weenie.

I put the frog outside. He can obviously take care of himself. Harry...not so much.

Dressing Appropriately

Peeps, I will be checking out all your solutions in the next few weeks and report back on my findings. Who knew all that was available!!!

Packers come tomorrow. Movers come Saturday. The stress is almost over.

I am going to be Beachy Mimi today and voice an opinion on something that has bothered me for a long time. I would be interested to see how you feel about this topic.

I'm talking about mom's dressing appropriately.

Now I am not a fuddy duddy. I'm all about trying to look your best.

A few years ago, in church, I began to notice that the 30 something mom's were wearing clothing items meant for teenage girls (not my teenage girl), college girls or young 20's without children.

This doesn't mean that when you have children you have to dress dowdy. But, if you choose to procreate, one would think you would have some maturity and sense about clothing yourself.

Case 1--Worship and Praise Team Member. Yet to see her in anything with straps in the summer. It is always halter or strapless/backless. Dare I say tasteless. Your tan may be beautiful, but what message are you sending to your 8 year old daughter about modesty?

Case2--Beautiful Mom. Six feet tall with long blonde hair. Stunning. Now I'm short but not that short. Her skirts hit about my shoulder height. If I were to look up......well, we won't talk about nether regions here......4 daughters. What message do they get?

Case3--Middle Age Mom. Good tan. Meat and potatoes fed girl. Very short, tight skirts and 2 teenage sons. Mucho cleavage from the potatoes and gravy. What message are the boys getting about women?

I think this is another case of JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN DOESN'T MEAN YOU SHOULD.

Case 4--Female. Doesn't choose to wear underwear. Clothing too tight. 2 kids. I'm sorry but this one.....ewwww. Commando cannot be that comfortable. Get some Spanx.

I think skirts just above the knee are cute, but not above the hoochie. I'm so jealous of cleavage but not at church, maybe a cocktail party.

There are just some things that ALL women should wear (panties maybe....) and after a certain age, I don't care how beautiful and toned your body is, there are just some things you shouldn't wear. EVER.

That covers the women who could wear those looks and "look good". Now let's talk about those who wear those looks and..........shouldn't.

Get a mirror. A long mirror. Dress. Stand in front. Turn around. Look at yourself from behind.

If you have a muffin top, a roll over, or a big crease.......it's probably too tight. If the belly hangs over the waistband.....probably shouldn't wear that midriff baring top. If you are over the age of 18 months you shouldn't bare your midriff.

I'm so tired of seeing tats, thong tops and dare I say....cracks from jeans meant for a much smaller person (and younger).

I've taught young children. We are sending them mixed messages when our clothing choices border on tacky and tasteless. When in doubt.....don't.

Modesty has to be taught. It is a beautiful thing. Your kids are watching........