Am I really a Houston mom?

With our lack of a backyard pool, and temps in the 90s (gulp — it's only June!) we're off these days to the neighborhood pool. It's a funky, hanging-out kind of pool — no real deep end, no diving board, a curvy shape with a sort-of stream, but lots of lounge chairs and a mushroom-shaped fountain. For serious swimmers there's also a lap pool up the road, but for our crowd, this is sufficient. It's not terribly crowded (not when we go, anyway) and there's plenty of water.

I love to watch the other moms. These are mostly mothers of preschoolers and young grade schoolers, so already I don't quite fit in. They arrive loaded up with pool toys, strollers, swim diapers, and enough snacks to last til tomorrow — don't these kids eat at mealtimes?

And I love to watch the fashion parade — moms who arrive in bikinis and bronze themselves to an unhealthy glow, moms in cute but practical tankinis, moms who wear unflattering, frumpy old-lady suits — even when they don't have to. Too thin, too heavy, just right ... where do I fit in? My suit is cute — well, the one I wore yesterday for sure. Grabbed it off a sale rack at the end of last year. I'm not one to name drop or brand drop, but if I were, and I did, you'd know for sure that it can't be ugly.

I watched the moms at gymnastics yesterday, too. Women here are big on heels — with shorts, with jeans, with capris. Another minus for me. And I hope the sparkly look is only the one mom — she was the kind who looked all put together, even for dropping off for gymnastics, and she had sequins on everything — the tank top, the belt, the jean capris, the purse. She probably had them on the wedge heels she was wearing, too, but I didn't get a good look. I think I was temporarily blinded.

I know it's Texas, but come on; it's still the real world. I felt so inadequate in my shorts and sandals ... well, not really, but I have to wonder if that's what she's going for. Why else would you don all those sequins in the middle of the afternoon?

More thoughts to ponder — that and Caitlin Flanagan and whatever the HELL her point is. More later.