I'm blowing it...blowing it!
My first grade teacher, Miss Lisk…
The children’s room librarian in my hometown, Mrs. Newbury…
Our piano teacher, Granny Meiloch…
Both of my great aunts, Elenora & Margaret…
To this firmament, this veritable pantheon of old ladies can now be added the newest shining star. Me.
At the Y the other night I reached into the right pocket of my warm-up jacket for my ipod, and came up with a couple of clean squares of toilet paper. It’s the poor man’s tissue. Ain’t no big thing, right? We’re between seasons here in the Midwest, and sometimes a body finds her nose running. It’s only natural to be prepared.
It turns out my left jacket pocket was similarly occupied. Plunging a hand into the pocket of my sweatpants I came up with a slightly used Kleenex. Both pant’s pockets, actually.
It occurs to me that having tissues (in various stages of pristine-osity) in every single pocket on my person might indicate I’ve rushed right past “be prepared” and am on a collision course with “obsessed”.
I don’t have allergies. Nor, as far as I can tell, do I have an abnormal abundance of mucus. Yet I always have to keep a sharp eye out for tissues in the pockets before I throw my clothes in the wash. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has missed one and spent tedious hours picking tiny pieces of tissue off the inside of the machine and every other item of clothing in the load.
I wasn’t truly concerned about this, however, until today. I was reaching across my desk when a horrible sight met my incredulous eyes. There, at the end of my sleeve, a generous flash of white paper peeked out. It seems that, finding myself in a pocket-less ensemble, I had unconsciously stuffed a tissue up my sleeve.
Oh, the humanity.
A tissue up my sleeve? NO-O-O-o-o.o.ooooooo…!
What’s next? Glasses on a do-loop around my neck, resting on my ample, southward-pointing bosom? Support hose that bag slightly around scrawny ankles before disappearing into sensible, lace-up shoes? A sweater flung about my shoulders and chained together in the front to prevent a chill? The scent of Jean Nate dusting powder and mothballs gently wafting off me when I move?
Hell no!
I refuse to give in to this. I am a hot mama! I should have diamond bracelets around my wrist, for goodness sake, not Kleenex.
That does it. We’re going out tonight. Just you wait until you get a load of me in my go-to-clubbing togs. I’ve got some new black pants and flared jeans to choose from, both skin-tight. I’ll pair them with my new, 5-inch heels and a satin & sequin tank top. This lady’s gonna strut what God gave her all up in this town. You’ll probably read about me in the paper tomorrow, it will be so freakin’ epic.
Old lady? I’ll show you old lady. HA!
On second thought, I don’t think those black pants have any pockets. Maybe I’d better go with the jeans.
Be sure and vote for the finalists in The Jacket Writing Competition. One vote per day until Friday.
Peg-o-Leg's Ramblings 
Oh, Peg, you’re clearly in the old lady danger zone. I do have allergies and have tissues (both new and used) in every pocket of every article of clothing I own, but the tissue up the sleeve? That brings me right back to my Nana (and if she was sleeveless, as she often was in Florida, she’d tuck the tissues in her bra).
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I forgot about the tissue in the bra phenomenon. I don’t do that. I never do that. Does that mean I’m not that far gone yet?
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There’s still hope …
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But now that you mention it, that would be pretty handy…
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No, no, don’t go there …
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Yes! My Gram did that! Oh, the horror!
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Laughed so hard I cried. Now where are my damn tissues?
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Check your pockets. Or sleeves.
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haha…my teachers used to stuff their kleenex in their bosom…there in front of God and everybody they used to pull it out…yes, I resolved to never do that…lordy, I pass no judgment because you only had something up your sleeve, didn’t yank it out of…ah hem….oh you have me chuckling as I go off to class dressed in my turtleneck, jeans w/ pockets and TP stuffed in them…
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I’m glad to know I’m not alone in this, and that I won’t hit true old-ladyville until I resort to stuffing my bra. Funny, that activity had a whole, different vibe to it when I was 12…
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Oh dear. Up the sleeve means that you have crossed over. It is only a matter of time before your lipstick goes far outside the lipline.
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And onto my front teeth. You’re not making me feel any better here, you know that, don’t you?
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OMG, I thought I was the only one who stashed tissues in my sleeves!! Getting old is a bitc*! LOL.
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No, no, I DON’T do that. See, that’s the point. This was totally a one time thing – never happened before and never again. Really. I mean it.
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Smirking. Oh okay, and I NEVER lose my glasses OR my cell phone. Not.
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Okay. It’s time to whip out the ultimate test. If you see adorable children on your lawn, what do you do?
a) Smile and continue about your business
b) Offer them something to eat/drink
c) Yell, “GET OFF MY G.D. LAWN!!!”
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“b”, of course. In fact, I’ll offer them a bite of my house before I pop them in the oven…
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d) Yell, “GET OFF MY G.D. LAWN” and shake your cane at them (that’s what I do, it’s very effective….)
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Our neighbor used to do worse than that. He had a fence-like thing, but it was really only a horizontal metal pole about 10 feet long, running down the middle of his lawn. I don’t see what the point of it was, but it was the perfect size for us kids to sit on and flip upside down – your head would just miss the grass. He was always chasing us off it and soon got to greasing the damn thing so we’d get totally trashed if we played on it. Crabby old Mr. Green. May he rest in peace.
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OH, no. You ain’t gettin’ old!
But then, I’m younger than you, and I have toilet paper in both my pockets right now. Along with some Advil in case my joint pain flares up again. Oh, and a half gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. Oh, and I also have some of those butterscotch hard candies..y’know, in case I see some cute whippersnappers. And my trifocals.
But, yeah. You ain’t gettin’ old!
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I can see where a half gallon of Neapolitan might be difficult to carry around in one’s pocket, but I’m with you on the other stuff. Can I have a butterscotch? But not those hard ones – they might crack my dentures.
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Once upon a time, a good friend and I were shopping through Macy’s during Christmas. She’s was in her late 40’s at the time. As we passed a rack of brightly colored Christmas cardigans, you know, the ones with reindeer, snowmen and jingle bells on them, she turned to me and said, “when I start wearing one of those, you know I’ve crossed over.” We laugh about it to this day! Loved your post.
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I have several sweaters like that. What are you trying to say?
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That those flare jeans would look smashing with one of those sweaters!
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My dad always goes for handkerchiefs, so gross, you find them stuffed down the sides of the sofa back at home, just dried and congealed…..and why would you want to wash these things, how powerful would your detergent need to be?!
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I know, I know. I canNOT understand washing handkerchiefs at all. Shudder, shudder.
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My mother used washable nappies on us as kids too. not sure why I had to mention as kids, that’s a given (or maybe not.
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Back in the stone age they didn’t have a choice about washable nappies – I remember those vaguely with my little brothers and sisters, but then they got into the first generation of disposable diapers.
You’d dunk them up and down in the toilet to remove the “waste matter” and absorbent lining, then flush, then throw out the plastic outside. This would be followed up with a call to the Roto-Rooter guy because the toilet would then back up. That happened at least 4 times per week.
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Hilarious 🙂 I cleaned out my purse last night – – loaded with tissue. My husband asked me why don’t I just put a strap on a whole box of the stuff. (and I don’t have a cold or allergies – – weird)
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Brooke, you may have just invented the biggest thing since the plastic rainbonnet – the Kleenex purse!
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I bought a cute little nylon housecoat at a thrift store a while back, and after getting it home, discovered the cleen folded kleenex in the pocket that it’s more-than-likely-now-deceased owner had left there. It actually made me cry, because I remember my Mother always had tissues in her housecoat pockets. But you’re not on your way there yet. I foresee you not with Kleenex in your bra, but in a bra made of Kleenex out there on the dance floor in your skinny jeans.
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Aw, you’re just an old softie! A bra made out of Kleenex would be pretty cool – get going on that, ok?
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Peg. Embrace it, my dear. Those sensible shoes may not get you laid, but they will get you to the head of the buffet line….
My husband has allergies. He hoards all the Kleenex boxes (2 beside his seat on the couch, 2 in his man cave, 2 in his vehicle). No one else ever gets any. Ever.
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I don’t want to get laid, just be universally admired. Maybe your husband is saving you from having any Kleenex to put in your sleeve, a fate worse than death.
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Perhaps. Perhaps I should reward him by putting on a pair of stylish stilettos?
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I bet he’d like that!
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Or ask “Who are you?”
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Admitting you have a problem is the first step to overcoming it, so though you are flirting here with “The Crossover” it seems you’ve taken reasonable steps to beat the tissue monkey on your back. Just remember these sage words from the founders of TA (tissueholics anonymous, of course) “Admitted I was powerless over tissues and only a higher power could restore me to sanity”.
Let us be your higher power, Peg. At least for now, until you get this whole problem sorted out.
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Will you be my sponsor? Just in case it’s a damp, chilly day…like today, and I find myself wearing pocketless pants, like today…and my nose is running. Help me!
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As a reformed Tissueholic, I wold ceretainly agree to be your sponsor – except I think you should know…I’ve taken to replacing the tissues with torn up napkins and paper towels. I DO NOT, however, stuff anything up my sleeve or in my pockets. ALthough you will find a nice, neat little package of tissues inside of my purse, the way God intended.
ALso, where pocketless pants are a roblem – fear not. Just tuck the little buggers into your waistband and….oops. I’m relapsing again.
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I KNOW I shouldn’t admit this but, I was eating lunch at my desk when your reply came in, and I had a paper towel on my lap. Since I don’t have any pockets today and it’s a bit chilly, and I’m damned if I’ll stuff that Kleenex in my sleeve again, I had just wiped my nose on the paper towel.
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I put a fresh kleenex or three in my pocket every morning, and have done so for years. It seems there is always a runny nose to wipe or gum to take off the bottom of a shoe. Bird poop on the hood of my car or a chocolate smear on the corner of a kids mouth. A small spill on the kitchen floor or a dead fly to swipe off the carpet. And, of course, allergy season, and have a good cry season. Mothers and grandmothers everywhere – what would we do without kleenex and pockets!
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Margie, are you trying make me feel better, or is this along the lines of old-ladyish misery loves company?
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Feel better, of course! I’ll be in my grave before someone calls me an old lady and lives to tell it…
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Ha ha!
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The “ample, southward-pointing bosom” nailed me. Oh, when did “sensible” replace “hot” in our lexicon?
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I think that was a journey rather than a point in time. That’s why I have been buying more high heels lately – I’m not going quietly!
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Here’s the real clincher: when you go out tonight, will you be in by 10pm or out by 10pm?
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You’re forcing me to look at myself in the mirror, hard, and admit what I have become. That’s not very nice.
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Is it possible that your husband is doing this to you to mess with you? I didn’t realize anyone other than my father’s mother actually shoved tissues up their sleeves. God be with you. You gotta go to rehab.
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Your mother-in-law? Really??? Looking in the yellow pages under “Tissue therapy”…
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No… my grandmother. I don’t know if that’s better or worse. She was wonderful, though. Does that help? (Careful with “tissue therapy.” You might wind up with a massage.)
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Peg, you mentioned the do – loop for your glasses. Well, being that I have been constantly misplacing my glasses as of late, I broke down and purchased one of those contraptions. But actually, I told myself I’m making a fashion statement because it is all turquois-ey and pretty stones. Not like the plain, generic gold chain ones that our mothers and grandmothers wore. Oh dear, I think I’m in the midst of “crossing – over” too! Maybe some 5 inch heels would make the look more sexy???
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On anyone ELSE it would look old-lady but on you, Jeannie? It’s fab! You still might want to bring out the 5-inch heels once in a while, though, so there’s no misunderstanding.
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You Have No Idea. My body is heavily fertile ground from which to sprout used tissues. I’ve got them emerging from pockets, sleeves and (when I was desperate once) underwear.
Since I’ve done it too many times to count, I advise that when you find one attached to wet clothes, just throw it all into the dryer. Then it pulls off nice and easy without any tiny bits on your sweater. That’s your poor man’s Martha tip for the day
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I went pocketless again today and I’m sniffing up a storm – what was I thinking? Thanks for the tip, Martha.
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Haven’t you heard, 60 is the new 30 and toilet paper is the new body-shaper? You’re good to go, Hot-Stuff! 😉
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Great! I feel much better now.
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That’s the spirit! You gotta FIGHT THE POWER!!!
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That reminds me of a song “we got the POWER!”, which is now stuck in my head. Right on!
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It just seemed more exciting to me than telling you to hide all the Kleenex and TP somewhere else besides in what you’re wearing. 🙂
But yeah! We got the POWER to FIGHT the POWER! Until the electric co. shuts it off…
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Ha! My grandma always had a spare tissue in her pocket, along with a cherry-flavoured candy. Always. When I was little, I would reach into her pocket, feel my way around the ubiquitous kleenex, and grab that wrapped candy for some artificially-flavored cherry goodness! A tissue up the sleeve is definitely Old Lady territory. You should probably swap it for a Jonas Brothers collectible bracelet– stat!
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Dana, I love you like a daughter, NOT like a granddaughter. Although a pocket of cherry-flavored goodness sounds like a good idea…
Where do I get those Jonas Brothers’ bracelets? And who are they?
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When I was a kid, I had really bad allergies, and I always had a pile of folded-up tissues in my pockets and purse. When I moved out on my own, I started buying those pocket-sized plastic-wrapped packages of Kleenex, which made me feel oh-so-sophisticated. I still carry those, but my allergies aren’t nearly as bad these days.
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Somebody suggested putting a shoulder strap on a box of Kleenex – what a groovy fashion statement for the nasally challenged!
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I’m so old I don’t even remember stuffing tissues in my pockets until laundry day when I open the lid to the drier and find it balled up on every item in crazy machine… like… sniffy shrapnel.
🙂
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Oooooh…I like the sniffy shrapnel! Well said 🙂
And, quite honestly, I’d rather have a tissue handy when I need it, than worry about having one in my pocket/purse/sleeve, etc. Just means we’re practical, NOT old!
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Practical=old. Young people are clueless, careless, and it works just fine for them.
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I always have a tissue up my sleeve when I’m with the preschoolers. Somebody always has gunk coming out of their nose,so for me, it’s part of my occupation and not a sign I’m getting older!!!!
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Well….I suppose that excuse lets you off the old-lady hook. But be careful. If the tissues start showing up in the sleeve on the weekends, we’ve got trouble.
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Oh, this sounds all too familiar. I’m going shopping! Might skip the heels, I KNOW that would end my night (early) with a trip to the ER!
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