Why Do Women Wear Short Blouses

Wrinkle Free, Almost.

I will go to almost any length to avoid ironing. In this wash-n-wear world, ironing for me happens on an “as needed” basis not as a regular task. Back in the day, Monday was washing day, Tuesday was ironing day. I know a few women who still follow that chore regime.

Not in my world.

Erma Bombeck once said ironing was her second favorite chore. Right behind hitting her head on the top bunk until she fainted. I come closer to her mindset then the Tuesday crowd. I like to think of Tuesday as golf day.

I own an iron, but I rarely use it. I also own an ironing board–a very dusty one I’m sure since it resides in a small slot between two open racks of shelving in my garage. It seemed a perfectly logical place to stash the board when I moved in two years ago. My closet space is limited and the slot was empty.

My love/hate relationship toward ironing goes back a ways.

When I was thirteen, my mother decided it was time for me to learn to iron. I went to parochial school and wore a uniform. Part of the uniform was a white blouse with short sleeves and an open collar. The dress code stated girl’s blouses had to be starched. There was no spray starch back then.

After washing my blouse, I dipped it in a bowl of starch mixture and then rolled it in a towel. The goopy concoction gunked up the bottom of the iron. By the time the blouse was done, it could stand up by itself. Oh, and when I wore it, it scratched my neck and the upper part of my arms.

Years later I went to nursing school. More uniforms. More starchy collars and cuffs, but I didn’t have to iron them. I did have to iron my cap though. It resembled a covered wagon (it symbolized pioneers in nursing) and ironing it coated with extra heavy starch was complicated and time consuming.

Still later, I discovered that married life and motherhood involved ironing. I would wait until the basket overflowed and then iron myself into a Zen state watching soap operas desperately trying to convince myself ironing was therapeutic.

I hated ironing, but I liked the look and smell of freshly pressed clothes. I ironed napkins (I also hate paper napkins), and as I recall, as a newlywed I think I even ironed our sheets and pillowcases a few times.

Ironing shirts was another story. Doing it well is almost an art. Just ask Martha Stewart.

I ironed a mean shirt, but resented doing it – especially, since in no time at all, it needed ironing again. Eventually, I wised up. I took dress shirts to the cleaners – light starch on hangers – and stopped buying ones that needed ironing.

To Love, Honor and Vacuum: Modesty Should Not Mean Dowdy

I've been on other women's blogs that seem to be pushing the idea that if we're not dressing modestly--and by that they have a very narrow definition of modest--then we're not being Christian. And so I'd like to spell out my philosophy on this, just to inspire debate, and to perhaps free some of you who aren't comfortable with this line of thinking but aren't sure where else to go. First, I do think modest should mean no cleavage, and no drawing attention to particular parts of the body deliberately. So no super-tight T-shirts, no low-cut shirts that look more like bikini tops, no super short skirts or shorts, and no tank tops. I'd even be careful with sleeveless dresses. For swimming, I'd steer clear of bikinis, and even some one-pieces, and go with some flattering tankinis, which are often prettier and which often have bottoms that go down a little bit further. I find most people look better in these anyway. do we really want to give the impression that Christians are dowdy spoilsports, because that seems to be what we're doing. As a married Christian woman, I feel that my responsibility is to dress modestly but fashionably. I want my husband to be proud of me, and if I were only wearing denim skirts with button down blouses, he would not be proud to take me out in public. I would stand out like a sore thumb. And so I go out of my way to try to wear things that are pretty and flattering but that don't cling too much, show cleavage, or come up too high on the thigh. Sometimes when we think about all this "modesty" stuff, I think we do it without male input. We say we're trying to protect men by not being tempting, but I wonder how many of the wives have ever asked their husbands honestly if they like the "sack" look, or if they would prefer that their wives be a little more attractive? I think many women get caught up in this "modesty" movement online, and in their little cliques, and they barge right ahead without asking the guys. This world needs Christians to become engaged, to be good role models, and to be outspoken (in a gentle way) for what is right. That means that we have to be people that others respect. We need to be people that others will look at and admire. And I don't think that it's flighty of me to say that part of that admiration will be tied in to how we look. If we show up looking like we have never cut our hair (let alone put conditioner in it) and as if we are wearing sacks, then why would people want to listen to us?

An anthropology of indirect communication

Encyclopedia of sex and gender, men and women in the world's cultures

Fodor's 89 Australia, New Zealand, the South Pacific

Look, Speak, & Behave for Women, Expert Advice on Image, Etiquette, and Effective Communication for the Professional

Aging and menopause among Indian South African women