Appropriate

If I had a loonie for every time that word has come out of my mouth in the last couple of months I would be debt free...

To preface things: I like plain clothing. I like well tailored, simple classic pieces that aren't flashy, fancy or too tight. I've never cared a fig for designer labels, mainly because when you have a big bust, designer clothes don't FIT you. Even when I was much thinner, I had hips and thighs and breasts and Designer off-the-rack clothes don't FIT me.

And I don't like to stand out. When you have large breasts, you don't usually have to draw attention to them. More people than I can count have conducted whole conversations to them. Newsflash: they don't talk back.  And confession time:  I was molested when I was 12 or 13. I was fondled on my breasts, and when I slapped the hand away, he said "do you blame me." I was a kid, I was naive and I knew nothing about sexuality etc, and it took me until my mid-20s to put the blame where it belonged. My lasting legacy, however is to cover up.

And to put the cherry on the top, my mother was still telling me what to wear to her funeral on her deathbed, because even at 49, she didn't trust me to dress myself. So I come with issues around clothing.

Enter my 8 year fashionista daughter. Although it's probably my fault for letting her watch the Disney Channel, she wants to look like the teens on the shows she sees. She wants to wear off the shoulder tops, skinny jeans with rips, tops with cutaways, string bikinis and she's never met a bling she didn't like. She wants to wear big hoop earrings like Selena Gomez. Did I mention she's 8...

Clothing manufacturers don't make it easy to dress our little girls as 8 year olds and not mini-tarts. Go into most girls' sections and you will have off the shoulder tops, skinny jeans with rips, tops with cutaways and the like. The skirts are short, the tops are low...what happened to letting our children be children?

I'm trying very hard not to be as dictatorial about clothing as my mother was. That being said, I am simply not comfortable with my daughter dressing like Trailer Trash Barbie. I'm trying to find a middle ground, and we have had conversations for a couple of years about clothing and appropriateness and classy versus trashy. We once sat on a ride at a fall fair and critiqued some of the outfits. To be fair, she asks me (constantly) mommy could I wear that, and I do try to find some middle ground. I'm trying to let her make some of her own choices.

She declared to the whole women's change room yesterday that my clothes were disgusting. She was mad because I wouldn't let her wear a particular top without something under it, and she was lashing out. She still can't wear the top.

But in my heart of hearts, I think she has a point. While I will never be comfortable with cleavage or super tight jeans (Pillsbury dough girl anyone? shudder) maybe I could try a belt once in a while...My mother told me it just made me look fatter and I'm ingrained to just listen. Besides, belts aren't comfortable. I like colour, but solids. I have a couple of prints...in black and white. Maybe I could try something more daring. I have a horror of looking like an ottoman. I'm already shaped like one these days.

 My mother based all of her fashion thinking on what the CBC Newsworld anchors were wearing, who, of course, you only see from the waist up. Although it was one of her best colours, it took a lot of convincing to get my mother to wear bright pink because she didn't think an octagenarian should wear bright pink. While my mom is still exercising her influence from the grave, (when I was dressing for my birthday, I had chosen a lovely grey knit dress. Clear as a bell in my head, I heard "it won't look very nice in pictures, dear." and she was right, so I changed...) she wasn't always right. (sorry mom).

I'm sure my daughter and I can find middle ground, although right now I'm tempted to re-outfit her closet with plain t-shirts and plain jeans to eliminate the fight. She is a strong independent thinker with her own opinions...and if I channel in the right direction, she'll be unstoppable. once she's not grounded any more for being rude to her mother...

Letters I would never send...

Mommy Maria's blog inspired this post. It's been THAT kind of a week here, so I think I'll do some "letters I would never send" compositions of my own. Make sure you read Maria's. I dare you not to nod and laugh out loud...


Dear small child: You've learned to whistle! Good for you. I'm proud of you, and how hard you're practicing to perfect it. Now STOP DOING IT every waking moment.


Dear family: Stop waiting for the dish fairy to magically transport the dishes to the kitchen. Pick them up and put them in the sink already.

Dear tween boys in the park: So you know the F-bomb. Good for you. It is not necessary to use it as a noun, verb, adjective and adverb in the same sentence. I would prefer that my child does not pick up that particular language skill quite yet.You are not going to shock me with your language: I worked in Customs.

Dear graffiti artists: Painting the only play structure for the little kids with obscenities and pictures of the one finger salute, breasts and penises only shows that you are not as cool as you think you are. And there are generally two testicles or 5 fingers, just sayin...

Dear city workers: clean the damn play structure already. It's covered in obscenities and graphic pictures.

Dear Ellen Degeneres: Come to K-W for Oktoberfest already. I'm tired of the campaign.

Dear Richelle Mead: thank you for Dimitri. Now hurry up and write the next installment!

Dear women's plus size clothing designers: Not all of the female population are comfortable with their bra straps showing. Not all of the female population want the girls showing in their entirety. Some of us have a modicum of modesty left. I don't WANT to wear a camisole under a sundress...it's HOT. Cut it higher and make the straps thicker. Seriously.

Dear women's clothing designers: We are not all twigs. We are not all 20. And can you get together and agree on consistent size measurements please. I don't have time to try on the same dress in 3 sizes to find out which size 16 yours is...

Dear husband: fanning the covers after a dinner featuring beer and sauerkraut does not "share the wealth." It annoys the wife.

Dear husband: I am reading my book. It is a funny book and it's making me laugh. Do not ask me what I'm reading. You can read it when I'm finished, but right now, I'm in the zone. shush.

Dear woman in the supermarket pawing through the cherries to get the best ones: Knock it off. I don't want your pawed through cherries. Just pick up the little bag like the rest of us and move along. And don't even think about stopping at the grapes to do the same thing.

Dear sample lady: You should perhaps mention the fact that there is freaking peanut butter in the ice cream before you hand it out. I just don't like the taste, but do you realize you could kill someone? sheesh. blech, plooey, blech. 

Dear woman in the checkout line: Yes, I get it. You're in a hurry. That's why you're in the self checkout, 8 items or less line. So am I . And I'm ahead of you  so stop huffing and puffing, this house won't blow down.

Dear people in restrooms, small child at home: flush the damn toilet already. If it takes 2 flushes, flush it again. jeez.

Dear telemarketers: off my planet.

Dear BP: how could you NOT have a shut-off valve on the damn oil well? What did you THINK would happen? And yeah, there are some of us in the world who care about pelicans, turtles and crawfish fishermen.

There, I feel better now...