Gender Fender Bender

I’m not what you’d call a girly-girl. Never have been. Also don’t often get confused with a guy; could be the plentiful hair & boob combo. I wear dresses occasionally and skirts mostly in the summer, when it is too hot for jeans. I work in a male-dominated area of publishing, I love gadgets, I snowboard… And my husband is also (not surprisingly since he married me) not all into “traditional” gender roles. His hair is longer (and curlier) than mine and he digs that we enjoy going to car shows together.

So why, oh why does my three year old not want to wear anything other than a dress and tights (leggings will not do!)? Why is it a punishment to ask her to wear jeans? Why did she want a bra so badly–ya, that’s right, I said a bra–that I had to go out and get her some lovely camisoles and tell her they are the little girl equivalent? The other day we were at Amanda’s and my daughter was wearing her favorite wee camisole that features Cinderella and I prompted her to show it to Amanda (hey, we’re all girls here) and after cooing that it was, in fact, adorable Amanda wisely wondered why on earth such a thing exists. Uh, because 3 year old girls who only get to watch about 30 minutes of TV a day, none of which includes the Bratz or MTV, are asking for them, that’s why!

The hyper-feminine child thing isn’t really a problem, I suppose. Except, perhaps, for weather- and certain activity-related issues. And I shouldn’t pout over the adorable cords or other pants I’ve bought, which sit idol in my daughter’s drawer. More than anything, I’m just baffled. We parents may think we influence these things, but I wonder how much we do. Perhaps I am influencing her in subtle ways or maybe it is all the positive feedback she gets from friends and strangers alike when she’s wearing a dress. In any case, there won’t be any pants under the tree this year; I got the word out to Santa that we’ve got a girly-girl in our house. Of course I just may be able to get her into snow pants to use that snowboard she asked Santa for…

Bunny Undies

My name is Amanda and I am a reality show addict.  While I don’t think I am ready to give it up, I must admit I may be in need of a twelve step program.  Last night I watched “The Girls Next Door.”  For those of you who have a life and may not know what this is, it is a show centered around the lives of three Playboy Playmates who live with and date Hugh Heffner.  Interesting premise, I know.  You will be shocked to hear this, but for a bunch of girls dating an octogenarian, they are really quite shallow.  This makes for good watchin’.  My favorite Bunny is a 20 year old bleach blond with the IQ of a turnip.  While she may be a stunning beauty, her moronic remarks keep me tuning in week after week.  In my favorite episode, she tells Roberto Cavalli, couture designer and native Italian, that The Olive Garden has the best authentic Italian food ever.  But I digress, last night’s episode featured Dumb Bunny finding a stray pair of panties in her laundry.  (A common hazard at the Playboy mansion I’m sure)  Anyway, as she discovers the foreign drawers amongst her skivvies, she gasps in horror.  Not because someone elses bits have been in them, but because she is appalled that the maid could think they might be hers.  She didn’t want anyone to think that she would wear what she referred to as “granny panties.”  My dear readers, I don’t know what sort of undergarments your grandmothers wear, but I would doubt that they were in any way similar.  A walk past my grandma’s clothes line would reveal large, nylon bloomers that, when stretched could cover more area than the Louisiana Purchase.  The undergarment in question was a tiny little bikini brief that I would consider to be ”Saturday night” drawers or even perhaps, if they were really clean, going to the doctor drawers.  The kind of unders you wouldn’t be embarrassed if someone saw.  Certainly not worthy of throwing a disgusted fit over.  Why, my husband would be thrilled if those were my “grannies,” of course, he’s seen what lurks at the depths of my dresser drawers.  And let me tell you, it’s not that far off from the old nylon bloomers that disgusted me so long ago.  Aging really sucks.

Osh Kosh Oh My Gosh!

While I adore my boys, I can’t help but to check out the cute little girl clothing displays in stores.  I must admit the adorable frocks with their gingham and frills make my ovaries yearn for a little girl to dress.  Little patent Mary Janes turn my “no more children” resolve to mush.  I am not about to “try for the girl” as everyone asks, but I will buy the cute confections for my friends’ daughters. 

A recent trip to the girl section of a department store, a area known to my boys as “girl land,” revealed a very disturbing fashion trend.  Clothing designers are trying to turn our little girls into skanky tramps.  There is no other explanation for it.  I did not see the any cute dresses or patterned tights, I saw tiny stripper gear appropriate only for guest spots on “Jerry Springer.”  Low rise jeans, crop tops, and baby doll dresses hung from the racks.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t four year olds be playing with baby dolls, not wearing them.  So help me I even saw a halter romper so revealing Chrissy Snow wouldn’t have worn it.  I thought that I was in the wrong section, maybe I was in the teen department, but the tags said “3T.”  As I walked out of girl land in disgust, I even saw a display of padded training bras.  What the hell?  It’s no wonder girls lack a good body image.  There is no reason such a thing should even exist in a size for the prepubescent. 

So, I had to call a friend of mine with a daughter.  “Have you seen this?”  I asked.  She told me that this is not a new phenomenon, she has had a hard time finding appropriate clothing for her toddler since she was two.  And that even though she is careful to buy conservative clothing, the cut of the garments often make her little girl show butt cleavage when she bends over. So, she has to continually remind her daughter to pull her pants up and to bend from the knee.   Go figure, a child wanting to move in clothing.  Hussy.  This makes me much more thankful that I can walk into the boys section and pick up anything in the right size and not have to give my child directions on how to adjust it for modesty.

Jon Benet Fashion (non)Sense

Out shopping for my three year old girl today. She’s in an extremely girly phase, which I have nothing to do with–not being the girly-girl type myself. She wants to wear dresses and “stockings” (Nope, I never used that word. Ever. I think my grandma did.) almost every day so I needed to restock her for spring time. My husband finds her darling in dresses, but was appalled by how short all the dresses are this season so I ended up buying a shirt for a 5 year old, which I will alter. She’ll have a preschool one-of-a-kind. Anyhow, being the little lady she is, she doesn’t exactly keep her bits covered when wearing a dress and as “stocking” season is drawing to a close, we sought out shorts.

Boy are they short. I find it quite stunning to see pre-teens in hot pants that they also roll down at the waist. I guess that this is so fabric coverage of their teen butts does not exceed 4 inches total. But in a 3T, low-rise micro shorts struck both my husband and I as extreme. So I trotted off to another store in search of longer ones, while the two of them hit Best Buy for some videos, and I heard a young (compared to me. but who isn’t?) mom cooing to her mother over bathing suits about how her 8 month old only has two and since they were planning a trip to Peurto Rico, she just had to have another. Well, I laughed and looked up from the (short) shorts. She showed me a suit to get me to help convince grandma. It was a miniscule bikiki. I laughed out loud. She didn’t.