I want to begin with an I’m sorry.
I wish I could take the whole day back.
I tried to remind God, while pregnant with you, that it wouldn’t be a good idea to give me a little girl. He disagreed and you came into the world with my red hair, freckles and chubby cheeks. I didn’t know how to be a girl myself, how was I going to teach you to be a better girl? I stressed and worried for months about raising a daughter. I feared all the girly things I’d need to explain one day. More importantly, I feared having the right answers when you came to me with questions.
I’ve tried, I have, honestly.
I knew the day was coming… I just didn’t think it through. I’m sorry.
Today, we set out to look for the perfect first day of school outfit. It went bad quickly, didn’t it?
I’m thankful that you couldn’t see the sweat on my brow, or feel the raise in my blood pressure, possibly notice my shaking hands or understand why my voice took on a tone of impatience. At that moment, I realized I was failing you. I’m sorry.
None of my reactions were your fault, I just knew, you were about to figure out that I had no idea what I was doing and I panicked.
I’ve been where you were today. Searching for clothes like everyone else’s …especially those cute outfits “Jessie” makes or wears.
I know I started in the wrong place. With you gaining the height of five foot rapidly, I should have known better than to send you off to that side of the department store. Nothing was going to fit you over there. I’m sorry. I suppose I still wanted you to be my little girl. Not the young woman you are beautifully turning into, right in front of my eyes. Together we designed outfits that made us smile. All the while, I had figured out, way too late, that none of them were going to fit correctly. I’m sorry. There would be something in that outfit that wouldn’t fit and it would turn into an epic fail.
Shopping Hell. I’m sorry.
You were looking for a “First Day of School Outfit” and I let you down. I didn’t know where to take you to find clothes that would fit. I’m sorry. Where does a mother take her daughter for clothes when they’ve outgrown those adorable little girl sections? Where is that place??!!
I had visions of the first time I bought blue jeans for myself. They were four sizes too big, which required me to tie bandanas around both legs to hold them up. I was in seventh grade and I had to convince myself that I was a rocker chick and that I’d like my new look. All I needed to do was ask for help, but I didn’t. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to have a love/hate relationship with clothes or with your body. I should have started learning and asking questions back then. I’m sorry.
I found myself looking at the Granny clothes section and thinking…is this where she shops now? The thought crossed my mind and I’m so thankful you didn’t see me looking in that direction, as you would have been so disappointed. I’m sorry. You aren’t a Junior yet either, so those ripped t-shirts, skinny jeans, sexy tops and skulls aren’t appropriate. They may never be. I’m sorry.
I really do want to see you look your best. What will I do when you can see right through me and figure out that I stink at shopping? I pray you’ll be understanding. You have an eye that I cannot compete with and you love clothes. I cannot relate. My fears of how to put clothes together, well, you’ve got that handled. (I cannot believe you pay that much attention to what everyone is wearing.)
I didn’t know where to take you shopping today. I feel like I failed at my job. I should have prepared you for this, I failed as your mother.
I promise, I’ll do my research and we’ll try again. There is nothing worse than being unprepared as a parent. All I wanted to do was find you something to wear that made you feel like a special girl.
Today, I wasn’t prepared for your stepping stone moment.
I have to concentrate on my new biggest fear: where to take you shopping. Shopping for a girl who’s never gonna be narrow in the shoulders and short-waisted, is so hard.
You were given a Mom who has no idea. I’m sorry.
I don’t know where we’ll find a shirt that doesn’t cling to your tummy and goes past your waist line but not to your knees. That look isn’t in style right now. I didn’t see a A-line near enough today. When I do, I know it’ll take a bunch of convincing for you to like it…and for that I’m prepared.
I can sell you on just about anything. All I need is a little time and some really terrible second or third choices.
I love you, Maxine. I’m sorry you took after your mother and that finding clothes to fit your body type will be a yearly battle. I can’t promise it’ll be easy. What I can promise, is that the tears we share in the dressing room will bound us forever.
I’ll promise you that,