Please eff off. Seriously. The last thing I need when I take my kid to the playground is commentary on my wardrobe. My choice to wear a t-shirt with a zombie on it ( and a cardigan over it!) is not tantamount to wearing daisy dukes while smoking virginia slims and talking about how baby daddy just got back from prison. You probably wouldn't have even noticed it if I hadn't been fanning myself with one side of the cardigan. Take your crocs-with-socks wearing, North Face fleece clad, poorly chosen plaid Bermuda shorts and shove it. Hard. Just because I'm young and choose to wear Converse rather than sensibly ugly shoes does not mean I love my child any less than you do yours. Remember what Mom said about keeping your mouth shut unless you have something nice to say? Yeah, it still applies as an adult.
Tired of Judgey Hippy Seattle Parents