The 80s

I am so grateful that the 80s are over. Back then, there were fashion faux pas that we from which we may never recover. I'm certain that the big hair and the major purchases of hairspray are responsible for the hole in the ozone. And then there was the clothing (as if the hair wasn't enough)
I don't miss Reagan and those warped policies. I miss even less Bush I who was a mere extension of President Reagan. Neither should have been elected, but you couldn't tell that to the oldsters that followed their every move like groupies. And there was the extreme Christian Right that would have dissolved the liberties of us who refused to agree with their agenda.

We discovered spandex. Why, dear God, did you allow us to invent and wear spandex? The only people that looked halfway decent in are 12 year old anorexic girls. Spandex was not created for everyone. It was not made for people with love handles, with the after-baby bellies.

The glam bands confused me. Some of them looked better than I did. Duran Duran and Motley Crue were just good looking.( I'm still trying to figure out how to get that look). And the androgyny if Boy George. I still don't get Twisted Sister. I doubt I ever will. I did like the Thompson Twins and even know I hum to tunes of Steve Winwood. MTV was new and reality TV was unheard of. Life was good for the most part.

In fairness, there are parts of the 80s that I miss. My family was just starting and marraige was new. The future was unfolding and we could see past the big hair and shoulderpads. And there was a hope that we would do better for our children, that their world would be safer than our world had been. I prayed that I had only daughters because of the Republicans in office, warmongers one and all. Thank goodness girls couldn't be drafted. I miss the seriously insane guitar rifts of Eddie Van Halen, the smoothness of Babyface, Bruce Springstien, Bon Jovi's hair and winning smile. Whatever happened to David Roth and why are my children amazed at my surprise that Keith Richards is still alive?

My family giggles when I turn to the classic rock channels and know all the lyrics. My 80s coming of age has become elevator music and remakes some better, some not so good. It's not always brilliance to mess with the "oldies".

My daughter was fishing through my closet looking for something to wear for Halloween. She ran across my exercise leotard and sweatbands. She laughed at my Reeboks which have long become to small for me. After hours in my room, she came out looking like a hot mess.

Hot mess? Maybe now. But back then it was everything.