"You look great!," I exclaimed.
It turns out, that was the wrong answer. I was still sent upstairs to change, because ". . . no daughter of mine will go out of the house looking like a gypsy!" For the record, my mother changed too. While I cannot remember what I was wearing (I think my ensemble included 3 belts, though), I do know I was mad because I thought I looked terrific.
After I became CGM, I made it a point to allow The Curly Girly Trio to wear what they pleased, within reason, out and about. Thus, we have left the house with fairy princesses, pirates, Belle, Cinderella, Doc McStuffins, a chef and other assorted characters.
For an entire year, I used to allow L to wear her pajamas out whenever she wanted, because I figured she was only little once and after awhile it stops being socially acceptable. Why? Wouldn't it be great if we could all just wear our jammies to the grocery store and not get odd looks from others? I know I'd be far more comfortable!
This morning, I told the Curly Girlies to get dressed because we have to go grocery shopping. As I walked into the kitchen, I heard B call my name. I looked up and my jaw dropped open. My 10 year old was dressed like a-- Well, let's just say she was dressed like someone much older than a 10 year old.
She was wearing a shirt that she had pulled off one shoulder to allow a cami strap to show, a plaid short tutu skirt that came with a halloween costume, a pair of leggings and her knee high, patent leather boots that she got for her Violet Incredible Halloween costume a few years ago.
"No. No way. You need to go change now!," I exclaimed, shocked at this outfit.
"Why?," she whined. "I like what I'm wearing!"
Ugh. . . Flashback to nearly 30 years ago! Eek! Now I know what my Mom was thinking!
"Why?," I said incredulously. "Because no child of mine will leave this house looking like a hooker!"
"Fine. What should I take off?," she countered, angrily.
"If you want to wear the shirt, it needs to cover both shoulders. You can leave everything on but the boots."
She started to turn to walk away and I called her back.
"Wait, a sec," I said as I grabbed my phone/camera.
"Are you going to take a picture of me?," she asked.
"You betcha!"
"No! Don't!," she begged.
"I just want to get Daddy's opinion," I said sneakily.
"Well, OK."
After a few minutes, I heard clomping again.
"I said to take off the boots, B!," I called out.
"I did!," she exclaimed. I looked up and she was now wearing her high heeled party shoes. What??
"We are only going to the grocery store. Why the party shoes? Go put on flip flops," I advised.
"Mommy!!! Flip flops don't go with this outfit!!," she admonished.
"Ok. Fine. Wear the shoes, but I don't want to hear complaints about how your feet are hurting halfway through the store."
I went back to my room to gather a load of laundry and when I came back out, about 5 minutes later, she was in the kitchen dressed much more like a 10 year old, wearing a 3/4 length sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans.
"You look very nice, B. What made you decide to change?," I asked, surprised. I honestly expected her to stay in her slutty outfit because she knew I didn't like it.
"Oh, well, the skirt was a little uncomfortable," was her answer. That's good enough for me!
Just last night we were discussing how she always has an attitude with me. I said something along the lines of, "Well, would you ever talk to Daddy like that?" and she answered, "Oh, no! I would never be rude to Daddy!"
"Really? Because you're always--"
"I'm only sometimes rude to you," she interrupted.
Well, as GI Joe used to say, "Knowing is half the battle!" Now that she has admitted she knows she's rude to me, perhaps we can work on the attitude change. Then again, I see the rudeness getting worse over the years. If my tween and teen years with my Mom are any indication, B is going to be feeling like she hates me for a long time and then one day, she'll realize I've always been right.
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