Over the weekend, my beautiful daughter and I undertook the Herculean task of back-to-school shopping. I sort of like shopping, when I’m by myself and shopping for myself. Actually, I don’t even mind shopping for the kids, but that’s becoming a tricky proposition as they get older.
But Casey is now becoming a bit of a clotheshorse, only the type that needs to be led to water. That means the shopping trips have me doing all the work. “How’s this? “What about this one?” “Do you like this?”, all of which are met with a monosyllabic grunt, a roll of the eyes or just a deep and heavy sigh. Sounds as much fun as a barrel of monkeys, right?
Given that reality I’m not sure how she talked me into going to the land of the Gucci-clad but she did, so off we went to one of the largest outlet malls in the Tri-State area. What transpired was less money-saving and more memory-inducing. Bad, bad memories.
See, I am a geek. I was born a geek, was a geeky teenager, who became a geeky adult and, by the grace of God, found a geeky mate. My high school career was punctuated by a number of humiliating experiences; dateless for four years, plagued with bad hair, and the only one cut from the flag team (I went out for the flag team because I thought the odds were in my favor. Sadly they were not). I was always just one season behind the most popular fashions, the narrative of my life.
Now that I have a daughter, I am determined that she not have to do through that social ostracizing. I can hear you now, worried that I’m placing too much emphasis on the superficial. I can assure you I am not; we talk about beauty emanating from the inside. But I also don’t see the harm in saving her from some of the sartorial stumbles I made.
Here they are.. Fashion Fails I hope my daughter never makes.
Yo! Nice to meet you! You can find out more about me on my blog, Good Enough Mother.
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