Damn it Feels Good to be a Hipster.

So I'm a little bit saddened by the fact that I might be a little bit too old to drastically change my appearance in any way. I mean, I know that I am not old old, but I am too old to just randomly get a new tattoo and my nose pierced unless I'm really committed for the long haul - I'm kind of past the whole "it was just a phase I went through" part of life, which sucks because I just really want to be a part of this whole wanna-be hippie craze that is going on right now.
Having a nose ring and an awesomely terrible pair of shades is something I am secretly jealous of. I want to get up in the morning and style my hair to make it look like I didn't wash it, and then put on a plaid shirt that I got from Nordstrom but looks like I got it at Good Will. And then I want to get on my retro powder blue bicycle and ride around for a little bit before my $200 ankle-length flower drawstring skirt gets caught in the chain - but it's okay if it does, because if it rips it will totally make my outfit way more hippie and cool.

I bet hippies are so pissed that their style is now a trend. Actually, I take that back - hippies probably don't care that this is a trend... and if they do care they probably think that it is hilarious that this is a trend. The entire idea of what it is to be a 'hipster' is one big oxymoron.
Isn't a hippie someone who doesn't believe in conforming with society? Someone who doesn't believe in materialism? Someone who doesn't judge others based on beliefs or appearance?
Isn't it funny that someone who is a 'hipster' is following a trend? Someone who is buying things to fit a certain look and be in a certain crowd? Someone who is clearly judging others because they are expecting to be judged by others?

I guess I'll just continue to dress in my 'timeless,' 'classic,' 'cliche' fashion that makes me look like I follow trends and that I care too much about my appearance - oh, wait. Because I do care about my appearance.

Besides... I don't want my kids to look back at pictures of me and say "ew, mommy, who's that dirty hippie girl?"