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Mums the Word

I had no idea that Homecoming Mums were just a Texan thing. But, according Amanda from Pandagon it’s true. I had no clue. It totally blew my mind. Honestly, I should have figured, because, Texas… Football… insanity… it should have gelled before now. But, I’m still getting used to living in a state where people seem to actually give a shit about baseball. I mean, I know that the whole Texas High School Football Thing is sort of a cliche on it’s own, but unless you’ve lived there, and gone to a Texas High School, I can promise, you don’t really understand.

In case you don’t get it, this is what mums are for. You wear them to school the day of the game. You wear them to the game. You wear them to the dance, which may be after the game or Saturday, depending on the school.

Mums have an insane heirarchy to them. The more popular you are, the bigger the mum. The richer your boyfriend, the bigger your mum. When I was in junior high (ie, when I still gave a shit about such things) you could safely predict how big a girls mum would be, by how big her bangs were. I assume, these days, it’s based more on how deep the tan is. If you don’t have a boyfriend, but have some obligatory school spirit position (student body government, national honor society, color guard, prominent band position, etc) you say your mom bought the mum. If you have both a rich boyfriend and a school spirit obligation (like cheerleaders) you wear two of the gaudy sonsabitches—one from the boyfriend and one from your mom. Usually, those girls had cheer-Moms that also wore big gaudy mums.

Now, craft stores and florists start displaying the crap you need to construct the monstrosities right around this time of year, and if you buy them custom made they started at 50 bucks and go up to and beyond $150—so there is more than just a little bit of classism involved. It starts with the standard one-mum thing, and moves on to involve stained wood-backing, and electric lights, and stuffed animals, and picture frames and the whole construction requires pinning the sucker several times through your shirt to a harness. My sister and I proved you could make your own for 15, and no one would be any wiser, provided you had some talent with a glue gun. Plus, it gave us something to do in that ass end of August heat before school starts. (And, yes, mine had the teddy bear. Which wore it’s own miniature mum. I can’t believe I just admited that publically. Between this and the Pantera revelation in my last entry, my roots are starting to show.)

But, oh, man. I can’t believe I didn’t know until today that mums aren’t inflicted on the rest of the world. That’s so not fair. I’m fully of the opinion that everyone’s public school experience should suck just as much as mine did. To realize that 49 other states worth of kids got out of the mum thing is just… a kick in the head. Damn it.