I’ve never been on the cutting edge of fashion. My normal winter attire consists of jeans, sweatshirts, rag socks, and a truly hideous fuzzy bathrobe. After menopause, my weight shot up 20 pounds, and I did what most women do: I kept a crowbar in the closet to pry myself into my jeans for as long as I could before giving up and buying a larger size.
I freely admit to sporting camel toes and muffin tops in the meantime. I’m not proud of it. Recently I’ve managed to lose five pounds, which equates to one bag of flour and a little shame. My jeans no longer feel like instruments of torture. (I’d sing like a canary if anyone so much as threatened me with the rack, scraping their fingernails on a blackboard, or liver and onions.)
My daughter told me about a friend who had to explain to her 80 year-old mother what camel toes are. I can only imagine the conversation.
Mom: I was watching Project Runway, and the judge said that those pants gave the model camel nails. I don’t get it. Why would leopard print remind him of a camel?
Daughter: You know when a woman wears tight pants? He’s referring to her yoo-hoo area. Ummm … when her lady parts bulge out around the crotch seam, they call it, you know, camel toes.
Mom: You’d think that skinny models would also have skinny beavers.
The mother was delighted with this new addition to her vocabulary. Trips to Uber Mart were punctuated by a lady speeding through the aisles on her rascal and proudly announcing, “she shouldn’t be out in public with those camel nails.”
It would be hypocritical of me to pass judgment on Uber Mart shoppers, at least where it concerns their yoo-hoo area. I’ll just have to keep my thoughts to myself, while I’m in the dressing room trying on a larger pair of jeans