Inappropriate

Isn't "inappropriate" an interesting word? All of those syllables...

I have been thinking about that word a little bit tonight. How we often deem some action, mode of dress, behavior, or attitude to be unworthy of our expectations. I have always been accused of having high expectations that are normally dashed. When this occurred when I was younger, I'd be perceived as being negative. Later on, I learned to just expect the worst, and prepared for that. Or at least I tried to. These days, I just figure that most of the time I'll be forgiven...so I forge ahead and hope that I bounce around somewhere in the realm of acceptability. I know how to apologize (since I have a lot of practice) and I also know that failure isn't fatal. Trust me. It can't be...I'm still here...

How many of you have seen a woman with black hose and white shoes in February and you've thought...bless her heart? Well, I know I have. In fact, I used to teach Principles of Banking classes (10 years...over 600 bankers...scary, isn't it?) and would tell everyone not to wear white shoes to work at the bank because it is tacky. Well, in the 1990's...it was. Now people wear capri pants and sandals in customer contact positions. I am not in a customer contact position anymore, and I can assure you that what I wear is in favor of comfort and would certainly be deemed "inappropriate" by my younger self. I think that cartoon character ties, tee shirts, excessive cleavage, anything with spandex and too much jewelry still hasn't crossed over to acceptability, thankfully...at least in banking.

That's because it's tacky.

Tacky is the southern word for "inappropriate" except that it carries a stronger undertone with it. This means that using the wrong fork might be inappropriate, but only providing plastic forks for use...is tacky. See the difference? Trust me...WE do.

So where exactly was I going with this? Well, I have a list of things that are a bit random...but they are just inappropriate...think about them and see if you have others that might qualify:

Okay, here's one:

We were in Pennsylvania...at the Amish market. We're discussing the buggies, the bowl haircuts and somehow the conversation swung around to things that would be totally useless to the Amish. The #1 most useless item? Thong underwear. Even THINKING about it is inappropriate.

Or this:

Someone has a husband or wife with a name that makes it difficult to determine if that individual is of the opposite gender or the same gender. Frankly, people, the whole gay marriage thing bothers me because I would be the one person who asked about Lou...assuming it was short for Louise...when...um...no...not exactly.

Or:

My mother is singing "Cherry Pie" in her "Broadway voice" because she's seen the Hardee's ads. Um...no.

Or:

You congratulate someone on their granddaughter's achievement...and you realize he's not the grandfather...he's the Dad.

Yeah.

Oh, I could go on all night. Because if there is an opportunity for some level of inappropriate behavior to crop up, I assure you that I have a story for you...

But back to the excessive cleavage...

I have people ask me about why I have such a problem with this. I mean, why should I care? Am I angry on behalf of ALL women? Jealousy? Maybe. Or maybe it is just that I look at excessive cleavage the way I look at tramp stamp tattoos or yellowed crusty big toenails sticking out of sandals. It's just more than I want to know.

I mean, if you think that you have to put the girls out there for public inspection...that means that you're trying to distract me from something...like a deep insecurity, clinginess, or true insanity that I'd ordinarily pick up on without effort and avoid at all costs. While I'm thinking..."how tacky"...I'm completely missing that the lady is a Glenn Close clone from "Fatal Attraction."

Yellowed toenails are something that I could go my entire lifetime without knowing about. Paint the things or put them in a shoe. Enough said.

Tramp stamps bother me because I know what a couple of pregnancies can do and I'm thinking that it is not going to be pretty when the young lady turns 30. Plus, it just doesn't scream "professional"...unless you add the word "stripper" immediately thereafter.

Oh well.

I'm working on falling more into line these days. Trying to avoid being tacky...and trying not to embarrass my children or myself. It is a thin line I walk...Later!