thoughts on another time.

Ponder this.

I’ve long been a fan of historical fictions.  I’d like you to believe that I went to an elite private school that fostered a love of the classics in early elementary school, but the truth is I loved American Girl dolls and the novels that accompanied them.  I’ve always been aware that make up is somewhat of a necessary gift of the modern age, and it’s one that I have enthusiastically embraced.  But more recently, after three babies, I have become more indebted to the ability to contour one’s face and to lacquer one’s eyelashes.

I do say I am eternally grateful that I was not birthed in yesteryear, more specifically the 1600’s.  Picture me.  Picture me with a unibrow and scarecrow teeth-which is what I would have without the luxurious gifts of tweezers and orthodonture.  I’d earn the accusation of witch faster than you can say abracadabra.  Can you imagine?  AND my dowager’s hump?? I’d always be forced to wear my hair in a bun, so I couldn’t hide it.  I’d be like a medieval Mean Girls.  There all the women would be, gathered round the… butter churn?  Yeah, the butter churn!  And they’d be talking about my unnatural love of sea cows and how I might think about trying the newest fad diet- Amoebic Dysentery.

Have you every thought about how people used to get their portrait done and give it to another person?  Just them in the picture, no one else.  Can you imagine doing that now?
“Yeah, here.  It’s an instaprint of my latest selfie.  I framed it because #nostalgia”

I’m also terrible at household chores, so I do wonder if I could have bagged a husband back then with my terrible cooking.  Nick is super strong so he would have been a hot prospect.  I’m not sure I could have won him over with my cheekiness and quick wit.  Although, if everyone was getting married at 14, I still might have had some semblance of a chance.

Most women probably imagined themselves as a princess, but I always put myself as more of a handmaiden, or servant.  I think I would have been getting in constant trouble for sassing everyone with my sass mouth.  “Nope, Lady Griselda, I can not be helping you with those corns.  I simply can not saw at your raptor toenails any longer.  Let me tend the pigs.”  But probably it would be “Please, send Kaley to work with the pigs, she keeps getting all caught up in our chit chat and poking me in the calf when she’s mending the hems on my petticoats.”  Well- take this made up lady I don’t actually work for- I don’t even know what a petticoat is, though I have heard the term bandied about many works of historical fiction.  As you can imagine, of COURSE I googled it and the results were far sexier than I surmised.  Now, let me try colonial petticoat- NO- medieval petticoat.

source.
source.
There we go.  No wonder men got so excited about seeing a knee.  Also, apparently that is a chemise and not a petticoat.  Wasn’t there a Petticoat Junction?  There was.  I think it’s time to jettison this extended Google search and call it a wrap.

Keep your eyes out for “Kaley’s Ameobic Dysentary CleanseΒ© , endorsed by various Hollywood Celebrities.”

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