I suppose there must be one at every school.   After all, they’ve written songs about her.  You know, the Harper Valley PTA mom.  The kind who looks like she might have a job that’s illegal in most states, and who makes you suddenly conscious of your sweatpants and sneakers.

I ran into ours, almost literally, about a month ago.  I had kissed my daughter goodbye and was rushing my son to his classroom when…boom! There she was.  Right in front of me, about two inches from my nose.  She’s very tall; I’m very not.  “Excuse me,” I said hastily to her bright pink waistline.  She looked down distractedly, then looked away as if she hadn’t seen anyone or anything, and kept on walking. 

“Hmmph!”  I thought.  “You’re in the wrong part of town, honey.” 

Her hair is brown streaked with large chunks of blond.  She had on enough makeup for a Tammy Faye convention, and wore big Jackie O sunglasses.  Her top, what there was of it, was tight, sleeveless, bright pink, low cut, and showed her flat (damn her!) belly.  She wore tight, black, low rise pants with flared legs, and pink stiletto pumps.  The kind of pumps that have a very rude slang name, if you know what I mean.  She stood out like a Kodacolor figure in an old black and white movie.  

In contrast, I wore sneakers, jeans, and a bleach stained sweatshirt.  I had on no makeup, and in fact had barely combed my hair before dashing out the door.  I am sure Harper, as I like to call her, has never cleaned mildew out of a shower, let alone stained her sweatshirt (like she has anything as dumpy as a sweatshirt) with Tilex.  

I sneer, but perhaps a part of me, a teensy weensy part, and I’m not admitting anything, mind you, but just maybe part of me is the tiniest bit jealous.  Maybe.  Because if I were to wear the same outfit, the adjectives that would come to mind would not be “cheap” or “sleazy”, but rather “comical” and “pathetic”.   I mean, wouldn’t we all like to know that we could be sleazy, if we wanted to?  

I am sure I am doing this poor woman a terrible injustice.  She looked very young (damn her again!), and probably hasn’t been beaten down enough by life to think that Mom clothes are OK.  I’m sure underneath the scant clothes, inside that tall, taut body (damn, damn, damn!), beats a heart of gold.  Or something.   She’s just a great gal who’s also a candidate for “What Not to Wear”.  Oh, how I would love to hear what Stacy and Clinton would say about her! 

I know it’s wrong to judge, especially on appearances.  And I feel badly about that.  Sort of.  After all, I certainly wouldn’t want someone to decide from looking at me that I am slovenly, thick headed, and unemployable.  On the other hand, I dress so that no one will look at me.  I definitely want to stay in black and white, at least until I get out of this mind blurring little kids phase.  And really, I am in black and white mentally.  My whole being is focused on my children, which I guess is a little unhealthy. 

I can snipe about what this woman is teaching her daughter.  About her message to the world carried by her appearance.  But what am I saying?  What am I teaching my daughter?  That once you have kids you don’t matter anymore?  That fun goes out of your life with the placenta?   That a good mom is selfless to the point of martyrdom? 

Hmmm… 

Since then, I’ve joined Weight Watchers.  Gospel truth.    I’ve lost the first five pounds, and I’m starting to think that my wardrobe is a little drab for the thinner me that will be emerging.  I hear Macy’s is having a spring sale…perhaps a little hot pink? 

 Look out, Harper, you may have some competition.