I never thought any deeper about my accessory choices than the age old question, “Does it match?” Beyond matching, the whys and wherefores, the deep-seated reasons behind why I wear what I wear never really headlined in the variety show of my mind. I just continued choosing big earrings and wearing whatever matched until the day I wore simple pearl earrings with an elegant outfit and someone said, “I thought you only wore big earrings. What changed?” Changed? Nothing changed. This elegant outfit called for elegant accessories and nothing fit the bill better than my wedding pearls The Yankee nervously handed to me as a wedding gift. That bizarre-o question bugged me for the rest of the night. Why do I wear big earrings all the time? Is it the mere fact that I’m just drawn to them like babies are drawn to car keys and ponytails, or is it something more deeply philosophical? After much soul searching and an internal interview, I have surmised the following hypothesis.
I've always been body-conscious for a number of reasons. I've always felt "on the outside", so to speak. Like the world had this big club in a shopping mall somewhere that I wasn't allowed to join. I was this huge, tall kid who started wearing women's shoes in the 3rd grade, so it was like, "Well, here's this fun ride, but you're too big for it." Then I can't find any clothes to fit me because, while I was the height and size of a grown woman, I still had the figure of an 8 year old. Nothing fit me and I looked ridiculous ... not to mention the 80's was the era that style forgot. Thank goodness I never got into the whole leg warmers thing ... they probably wouldn't have fit me either. Then, when I got older, it was like, “You've finally reached womanhood! Here are the cute clothes for people your age ... oooh, so sorry, you're too big. What? You don't want to wear a 2 piece? Well, the great-great-granny section is down the hall, left turn at the hearing aids.” Then it was, “Wow you sure are tall! We have tall pants in sizes 2,4,6,and our XXXL is an 8. What? You can't squeeze one butt cheek in our XXXL size 8? Somebody tax this girl's carbon dioxide emissions!!!” So, down the hall I go to the fat chicks department. “Wow! You're a buxom gal! We have sizes 16, 18, 20 and up. This 18 fits really, really, really TALL girls all the way up to 5 feet 4 inches in height!!! What? You're 6-feet-in-heels? Security!!!”
So I thought, “Well, I guess I'll stick to the few pieces of clothes I can find at Buxom Broads, Inc. that aren't $100 each. With my high-water pants, I’ll start a Capri pants trend. I'll just get colored contacts to make my green eyes greener. That, along with my eye makeup and huge earrings, will take the emphasis off of my granny outfits and high-water pants.” What? You're legally blind? Well, our colored lenses are for special people who are only sorta-blind, but we have these clear lenses that are almost comfortable!! So, with my clear, almost comfortable lenses I think, "That's OK, I'll get a new hairdo". And the hairdresser says, "You want your hair to look like Oprah's? Well, I suggest you get hair donations from 20 of your closest friends because you're bald, darlin'!! Only special people with tons and gobs of hair can look like her!!!" So, I perm my 9 strands of hair, thus bringing the spiral perm fad back into haute couture, and take my clear lenses, high-water pants, and short-people, granny-gauze bathing suit with the bra cups under my ribcage and think, "Well, I'll just use my sense of humor to make people not notice the baldness, clear lenses, high-water pants, and granny gauze bathing suit". And the world says, "You want to make us laugh? Ooooooh, sorry, that only works if you're thin with tons of hair, pants that fit, bright green eyes, and a bikini. OR, you can use tons of profanity and scream the F-word every other breath. What? You don't cuss like that? Well, the retired librarians are meeting down the hall, right turn at the orthopedic school marm shoes ..."
So, there you have it. My armchair psychiatric self-evaluation into the deep reasons why I wear big earrings. Was my momentary lapse into the ladylike grace of demure pearls indicative of anything other than a one-time jewelry choice for a dress-up affair? “Well, Bertha, only you can answer that.”
OK, I’m getting on my own nerves now.
© Bertha Grizzly 2011. All Rights Reserved. No duplication or distribution.