That tank top makes you look suspicious

I drove to Stillwater yesterday.  I do this once a month during the school year to volunteer with my old sorority.  It is a good way to remind me that I'm not young anymore, that I am in fact old and out of touch.  Just in case my sore back and Blackberry didn't remind me enough.

On my drive, I got pulled over for speeding.  I hit "resume" instead of "set" on my cruise control and therefore I was going 12 mph over the speed limit.  Technology can be so tricky.  My brush with the law brought out my apparent shear terror of the police.  My heart was beating hard, my hands shaking, I was reacting as if I transporting heroin.  Good lord, if I ever do commit a real crime, I have no shot at all.  It made me question what went wrong in my life that I am that terrified of cops.  Maybe I have a naturally guilty conscious.  Maybe I'm a criminal and I don't even know it.  My god, am I a sociopath?  Maybe my name really is Kathy.  I may have to go underground for a while, don't contact me, I'll contact you.

After I got sprung from the pokey, actually he just gave me a warning, I proceeded on to the greatest little town on earth and headed to my old stomping grounds.  I volunteered to giving a rousing and inspirational talk about the importance of using good judgment while on social media to the girls.  Hopefully, none of them can find this blog and raise a point of order regarding hypocrisy.  In my defense, as far as I know, I haven't lost out to any promotions or job opportunities due to this collection of rambling thoughts.  Then again, I have fallen short of my end goal of being President of the World...but I feel like I that could probably be tied back to a few other things.  It's not an exact science.

Following my meeting, I ventured to a couple of stores to buy some Oklahoma State clothing for my kid.  I mean, football season is right around the corner, after all.  She needs some options.  I, of course, was also on the lookout for myself.  My gameday style is always evolving...unless I find a lucky outfit, then I will continue to wear it each week.  I will make that sacrifice for the team.  This pretty much means I'm a martyr.  Actually, that isn't even close to the definition of martyr.  I was just joking...sheesh.  Give me a break.  Who are you?  The definition police?  Didn't I already establish that I'm afraid of the police?  Back off!

On my shopping trip, I discovered something that probably everyone else already knows...tank tops are back, with a vengeance.  I'm not really at a place in my life to wear tank tops. So my other options are the women's tops that feature bedazzling.  That's not really my style either.  And by "not really," I mean, hell no.  I mean, is there not a middle ground?  Are 30-somethings not expected to attend sporting events?    I feel like I am having to choose between lace booty shorts (all the rage last season) and mom jeans. Instead, I bought a men's t-shirt and decided to regroup and return at a later date.

So let's circle back and review what we have learned here today.  I may or may not be a stone cold criminal who will be speaking to sorority girls about making good decisions in an outfit yet to be determined.  Great.  My life is right on track.