Words of wisdom

How often do you hear your mother's words come out of your own mouth?  

I lost my gorgeous mom too soon, but she really did more for me in 19 years than most mothers do for their children in a lifetime.  She was patient, caring, understanding, non-judgemental, and freaking hilarious.  As an only child, and a girl-child at that, I had the opportunity for LOTS of quality bonding.  I'm not sure how she managed to speak to me from the ages of 12-16, but whatever.  That's another blog post.  I always thought she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever known and she had the most amazing voice.  Her words of advice, though irritating, still resonate in my mind.

This is her senior picture.  

The photographer won awards because of the color enhancements he did with the feathers.  

Fancy.

This is one of my favorite pictures of her.   

 Yes, she told me typical things like:

"Never say never."

"Always keep a quarter with you in case you need to call home." 

(Am I dating myself?)

"Breathe from your toes if you want to hit that high note dead-on."

"Do it right the first time and you won't have to do it again."

"It's better to be single than to be with an asshole."

But I feel the most important advice she gave had to do with appearance.
Go ahead, call me shallow.  She was a beauty queen, so she knew what she was talking about:

"No make-up in the world will cover up bad skin, so wash your face and use moisturizer everyday."

"People may not notice your new outfit, but bad hair and bad make-up can't be easily forgotten."

"Amy Leigh, don't wear stirrup pants.  If you fart, you'll blow your shoes off." 

(I was a gassy thing.)

"Just because it's in style and they make it in your size, doesn't mean you should wear it."

I really do find myself saying these things often...well, all except for the stirrup pants bit.  Let's be clear, I am not petite.  I am 5'10" and after losing 40 pounds, I'm still a size 12.  I will NOT be seen in a string bikini, Daisy Dukes, low-rise jeans, or a peplum.  EVER.  Some things just aren't meant to go on this body, no matter how successful I am with my weight-loss.  

WHY CAN'T THE REST OF THE WORLD GET ON BOARD?

My mom started teaching me to dress for my size and shape about the time I started junior high.  I guess she wanted to make sure I would have the knowledge necessary to put together flattering color palettes and slimming looks for my growing and developing body.  Having said that, I'm quite certain that she had a game plan early on to keep me humble.
Why in the hell else would she have dressed me like this??????

Sorry if you're blinded by my awesome yellow shirt.  I should have warned you. My bad!  Man, I was rockin' those parachute pants.  I'm pretty sure we were expecting rain.  The wooden necklace, matching bracelet and velcro straps on my shoes really add an element that says, 

"Don't screw with me, bitches, or I WILL CUT YOU!"  

At least my cousin, Kate, suffered a similar misfortune.

Black is slimming....

Unless you're fat and wearing an acid-washed skirt pulled up to your ribs. The fake Gucci purse that I just had to have really pulls the outfit together, don't you think?  The look on my face suggests that I was skeptical from the get-go.  Go with your gut! Always go with your gut!

What is with my hair in all of these pictures?  I look like a mullet gone wrong.

I remember being so proud of my favorite "Katy Tiger Red and White" shirt.

What you can't see is that these fabulous overalls have belt loops and I am sporting a red belt. At least I felt pretty??

I really have no words for this look.  

Wait, I totally do.

What the hell, Mom?  

Buckwheat???  Suspenders??  PUFFY PANTS ON THE FAT KID??

Not nice.  Rude, actually.

To my point, Clay just looked at this picture and said, "Mom, are you a boy?"

It's a good thing that you told me over and over to lighten up and not take myself quite so seriously. 

Let's be clear, I make an ass of myself on a daily basis.

Still, no amount of alcohol in Cancun would make that gold belt from Express that I loved and wore every damn day ok, today.

Love you, Mom!  

Thanks for all you taught me, even if I had to learn the hard way.