I aced my typing class in high school.  I had perfect positioning, my hands cupped over the typewriter with the confidence of someone able to hold imaginary ping-pong balls with the youthful pads of their palms.  One day, after a particularly artful display of clerical wizardry, my teacher, Mrs. McGuire, approached me.

“You know,” she said, her gravely voice reaching down to me from her imposing 5′11 frame, “you have a real talent for typing.  You should consider a career as a secretary.”

I am hard pressed to cite a group more encouraging, more filled with hope for the future, than high school teachers.

But Mrs. McGuire did have a point.  I’ve always had dexterous hands.  I am good at putting things together and taking them apart.  I am the mom you want when your shoelaces are impossibly knotted and you are running late for school.  I played the piano (and the constant practicing, recitals, and rigmarole that entails) for eleven years, until I took up competitive tennis and developed callouses on my palms so thick I could stick pins in them without feeling a thing.

I say all this not to brag, but to justify how I can palm a basketball with my monstrous paws.  It’s true; I have hands larger than many men.  My fingers, stretched long from years of piano and prodigal typing ability, extend knuckles past the dainty tips of the women I know.  Likewise, my palms are larger than average, a fact I used to my advantage every time a nutritionist told me to use my palm to determine portion size.  My friend, Tiffany, not one to miss a freakish characteristic on the body of another, once noted that my fingers reminded her of E.T. “Every time you point I expect the tip of your finger to light up.”

At least they aren’t man hands.  They are feminine in shape and almost graceful in appearance when manicured, which I admit is never.  But, still, graceful or not, their size comes at a price, and that price is bangles and bracelets.

I have an alumni event tonight.  The type of event where you show up over dressed in hopes people will believe you dress like that normally.  What, this old thing? I used to wear this during finals, don’t you remember? The type of event where you lie about what you do and how much you make, knowing the person you are talking to is doing exactly the same. The type of event where a nice set of bangles would complement my black cowl neck top nicely.

But it is not meant to be, me and bangles.  Knowing my tendency for circus like proportions, I headed over to Lane Bryant and found exactly what I wanted: silver, but not shiny, simple enough to wear with any number of outfits, and under $20.

Unfortunately, the set was too big.  No sooner did I put them on and drop my hand did all seven bangles slide down and off my wrists into a tinkling pile on the floor.  The same thing happened with every other set I tried.

Aha!  I’ve lost so much weight that my palms and wrists have shrunk to a normal size, meaning I can now wear bangles like everyone else!  Not so much.  I went to 5 different “regular” stores and a few national chains, and while I could slide on the bangles, I couldn’t take them off without grimacing and grunting, causing Mikey to ask me more than once if I had a tummy ache.  “No, Mikey,” I gasped as I ripped off a bangle with a sharp edge, “Mama just has hands like an orangutan.”

I live in a historically dry area of southern California, so my polka dot rain boots seemed like a frivolous purchase to my family and friends.  As luck would have it, this year has seen heavy rainfall and my boots, plenty of wear.  Clearly, then, my rain boots brought on the rain.  If a new pair of rain boots can bring rain, surely a new wallet can bring money.  I’m looking for a new wallet, and the money to go along with it, too.

I’ve owned two wallets in 17 years.  When I was 19, I  bought a  Coach zip around wallet at an outlet store.  It was similar in style to this one, but in plain, red leather.  I carried that wallet for 12 years until the Mister bought me a new wallet, also by Coach, in the popular Signature pattern.  The wallet is similar in style to this one.  I wrongly assumed it would last me another 12 years, but the zipper has failed to stay on track for 4 out of the last 5 years, and the snap refuses to stay closed.

The wallet has a lifetime warranty, but I am ready to move on to something new.  I liked the Coach brand back when it wasn’t so popular and heavily marketed.  Now, dripping with Cs and logos on all sides, it just smacks of excessive consumerism. Besides, when you see a 16-year-old girl carrying the same bag as you on the way to her job at Hot Dog on a Stick, it’s time to move on.

I don’t want anything heavily labeled, which is almost impossible since that remains the rage.  I don’t like chains or whips or fluorescent patent leather that, I’m sorry, to me screams, Look at me!  I’m a mom and still hip! I’m wild, really.  So totally wild.  Rawrrr.

I’m trying desperately not to like this wallet by Dooney & Burke.  I know this brand is not “cool,” but that is actually part of the allure.  I admit zebra has been done to death, but I love high contrast color combinations like this.  The red trim positively slays me.  It’s preppy and modern and classic, which sums up my personal style perfectly.  It’s also $195, which turns my stomach.  I am not afraid to spend good money on a quality product, but this is more than I am able to spend with the Mister looking for work and me trying to start a law practice.

Any suggestions?  What has been your favorite wallet?  I am open to any brand, large, small, or indie.  I don’t want something cheap if it means I will replace it in less than a year.  I’ve tried Target and Nordstroms, but didn’t find anything nearly as enchanting as that striped number up above.  Maybe that’s my problem–I’m looking only in polar opposite price points and need to start shopping somewhere in the middle.

I love hats.  I look good in hats.  I would probably wear a hat or hair accessory everyday if the rest of my wardrobe didn’t so acutely reflect my dissatisfaction with my weight.  I am working on both–my weight and my self esteem.  Chubby girls can wear hair accessories, too, right?

Right.

The other day, Brook left a comment on a post here.  And like I always do, I followed her back to her home on the web and was greeted by this darling image.

Cute, right?  Of course, my eyes immediately fell on that super sweet headband, being the headcase that I am.  Well, Ms. Brook made it herself and happened to have a few more in her etsy shop.  I snapped up a white one just like the one she is wearing and a red rose headband, too.

Today I received my little headbands and I love them.  I love their thin, patent leather fabulousness and how they don’t pinch my freakishly large head.  I also love how fun they are without screaming, “Hi!  I’m a mom in my 30s but I’m going to dress like I’m single and 19, okay?”

Did you see Nicole’s Style: June ‘08 post? I’ve gone back to it several times already to look at all the items featured.

• My BFF, Kara, and I have wanted a crystalyn kae bag for over a year now.
• I’ve wanted a Manic Trout necklace for over a year, as well.
• The shoes are just plain charming. You don’t walk in those shoes; you mince.
• The skirt is unapologetically Scandinavian, and while I am not Western European, I’m still drawn to the pattern and color combination.

But when I first saw the style board I was disappointed and immediately thought it was nothing I could ever wear. The heels are delicate and not meant for running after a preschooler and toddler. I look best in skirts, but I avoid them because it makes bending over for strewn items in public risky. The bag has fabric panels that don’t always go with everything, and I don’t often have time to change out my purse. The necklace, too, is brass and my wedding set is platinum (I always feel awkward about mixing metals). But really? The real reason I thought the outfit wouldn’t work is because it’s too young and free for a stay-at-home-mom like me.

And then it occurred to me that I could not possibly be more uptight.

When did moms develop the uniform from which we rarely deviate? Jeans, yoga pants, t-shirts, hoodies, semi-stylish sneakers, and, of course, the ubiquitous ponytail. To lend polish to the outfit? A Coach bag, naturally. It’s all so safe it’s suffocating.

There are some moms who look outside the wardrobe of domesticity, but they veer down an equally disturbing path. I call them RockStar Momz. They showcase their fake boobs with lowcut wife-beater tank tops and have name brands dancing across their pilates-toned asses in rhinestones. Their hair is platinum blonde with the random black highlights. They have every possible “it” label in their possession because they depend on US Weekly to tell them what is cool. The look is worse than safe. It’s forced, and I can’t help but think they want everyone to think they are sexy despite being fertile.

I don’t want to be sexy, but I would like to be me. And my initial response to Nicole’s post begs the question: When did dressing young and free become incongruous with being a stay at home mom? From the looks of the other moms at schools, malls, and restaurants across the country, I am not the only one who relinquished style to embrace motherhood. I have treated my wardrobe with the same practical eye that, until recently, I used to decorate my house. Everything safe, predictable, unlikely to offend (or inspire), and guaranteed to last several years in a life without oxygen.

I have taken some steps in distancing myself from the Mom Club. I stopped using Coach two years ago (I still have a wallet I need to swap out–any suggestions?), and I cut my hair shoulder length to make it harder to put it back in a ponytail. Now I just need to work on my clothes.

Maybe Nicole’s outfit wasn’t totally wrong for me, after all. I don’t often wear shoes in the house, so the heels really aren’t as problematic as I imagined. Fabric panels peeking out of a purse probably coordinate with more items than giant interlocking Cs. If I look better in skirts, I should wear them–wardrobe malfunctions be damned. Mixing metals? There are bigger controversies– like waiting until you really are too old to buy an outfit you love.