Crossing Over

This afternoon I found myself in new, unfamiliar terrain: lost in a maddening retail environment (ok, that is familiar by necessity) searching for girl's clothing sizes beyond 6X. Little did I realize.

The goal: to find some darling, lavender frock for the Bean's friend, Riley, who is enjoying a birthday in a few days. The Bean and Lump were with me, and we were all on board for the mission.

Then I realized I was crossing over to the 7-and-up girls' sizes in this particular department store, since I often buy the clothes one size up for longevity. Suddenly I found myself lost in a sea of neon tees emblazoned with Hanna Montana and Bratz nymphettes. The skirts were short, the patterns were assertive, and everything had the constitution of tissue paper.

"We've got to go somewhere else," I said to the Bean. She protested. "I want to go home!" she said, reasonably, since she knows I, too, quickly hit a shopping wall on errand day shortly after the first stop. Finally, I settled on a sister brand within the department store that redeems the place from slutdom.

Honestly, the entire experience made me love thrift shops even more.

And my (intentional) wondering aloud about the Hanna Montana-dominated couture sparked a basic contemplation between the Bean and I, which, because the Lump was asleep, was able to occur in the first place. "Why would girls want another girl's face on their shirt? Maybe people would look at the shirt and not at the girl."

"Like princesses," the Bean pointed out.

"Maybe it makes them feel special," I said. "But princesses are special because they are not only beautiful but kind and brave. Maybe you are special when you act kind and brave. Not when you wear something."

After some time, she said, "I think you're right. It makes them feel special. When I wear my pink dress with the flowers on it, I feel special."

She put that dress on when we got home. It's a long-sleeved, velour babydoll dress covered in roses.

(Note to self: stay out of the mall.)