Ten thousand shiny silver paperclips does not make for much of a covering on a 5’6, 120 pound thirty- three year old mother of two but when my friend Tony asked me to model his daring design in a fashion show, I said yes.  The reasons behind that “yes” are I am sure, deep seated and require years of therapy, but go far beyond the abilities of one tiny blog to understand so we will leave it at somehow I found myself flashing slips of silver in front of two hundred people and hopefully nothing more.
I would like to report to you that the experience was humiliating, mortifying, horrifying, ridiculous (Ok so it was a little bit ridiculous but anything involving flesh colored undergarments usually is) but for the most part I just enjoyed the crap out of it except perhaps the part where every child in my son’s middle school ended up with a copy of the newspaper which held a flair front page picture of me in said ensemble.  That part did cause the blood to rise to my face a bit.
The response was great.  Next to the picture they quoted me saying “I’m just a soccer mom” .  The reporter must have been chuckling with glee it couldn’t get better then a tattooed soccer mom in pink pumps and paperclips. 
“Sure you’re a soccer mom- is that your stage name?”
I was surrounded by college beauty queens and eighteen year old hotties but I had the confidence you only gain by having been room mother to twenty five year olds.  The kind of confidence which sends you and only you to the dance floor at a wedding because hey you like to dance and don’t have many chances.  The kind of confidence that allows you to face your teen and say,

“Sure I got a .666 my freshman year but, yes, I expect better out of you.”
You can’t buy confidence like that and it doesn’t come in a makeup bottle on the racks at Nordstrom’s or at a pricey salon (which is perfect because I couldn’t afford it anyway).
And you might think it’s strange for a tomboy soccer mom of two to include in her proudest moments pink metallic platform pumps, a box full of paperclips and nail polish you could see your face in but it does.  After all isn’t that what all those years of bra burning were about?  Letting us women be exactly whatever we might choose to be whether it be the ceo of a major company or a middle-aged soccer mom in pink pumps.  That’s what freedoms all about baby- no one said it was pretty but it sure can be a lot of fun.