one mean bitch.
She was the one
who cackled amongst
the other mother hens
about my daughter,
said she dressed too
much like Gaga, said
she needed to be taught
how to look like a lady.
She said it, her daughters
repeated it, and now
I have to dry my
child’s tears, tell her
she is still special, to
ignore what that lady
had to say. Ignore her
just the way I have
all these years. I
remember her from my
high school days, trying
her hardest to be like
Madonna, wearing her
MTV outfits to school,
teasing the teen boys, even
saying she could be their
Boy Toy. But I guess she
forgot the past, forgot that
those young boys became
grown men, forget how
she stopped being a
Lucky Star, switched to
plain clothes, let her hem line
down, and eventually
learned how to cross her legs.
My daughter will learn
those lessons, too. But not
now. It’s time for dinner;
pizza and soda for the
family tonight. Her Dad
doesn’t need to know about
our talk. Tonight we’ll enjoy
time at the kitchen table,
then I’ll show her how I
used to dress like Boy George.
2 comments:
Oh! My twelve year old mini-me so needs to read this. She is an old soul, doesn't take well to trends, and spends more time in the library than on the playground...it is so wonderful to teach our children to be themselves...and keep wishing on those lucky stars that the world will evolve to the point where it is appreciated rather than condemned...so love this!
how quickly we forget our own little rebellions and the pressure as well faced by our children to understand and appreciate who they are ...good on you reminding her she is beautiful and special...hey i like the pic too...i know where you are there...smiles.
Post a Comment