Almost as Much Fun as Being Boiled Alive

Our oldest daughter Brayden has gone through some sort of growth spurt recently. Actually, she’s been going through one for the past year and a half, and quite frankly, I’m sick of it. I had to buy her all new jeans last winter, and all new shorts this summer, and wouldn’t you know, not one single pair of jeans in her closet fit her now. I wouldn’t mind buying so many pairs if there was a snowball’s chance in Hell of passing them down to Kendrie, but no way **that’s** ever happening, seeing as how Brayden wants her jeans embellished with pink stitching and butterflies and sequins and feathers, for God’s sake, and Kendrie will ONLY wear jeans purchased in the boy’s department. (sigh)

But facing the fact that fall has finally arrived here in Georgia, and it was only 54 degrees when I took the kids to school this morning, and especially as it is certain to be cooler than that when we get to OK in ten days (OMG TEN DAYS I’M SO NOT READY WHY AM I SITTING HERE ON THE COMPUTER I SHOULD BE PACKING I TELL YOU PACKING!) I figured it was time to replenish her winter wardrobe. Not only are her jeans too small, but she’s outgrown all her long sleeve tops as well. And shoes. Oh, geez, don’t even get me started on the shoes.

And thus began the shopping spree otherwise known as “Who Invented This Fresh Hell?!”

We started with jeans, since that seemed to be the most desperate need. Brayden is average sized -- not heavy, not skinny. Just starting to get a little bit of a girlish figure, which she despises because “it makes me look fat!” -- but the biggest problem is she has short legs. The past year or so she’s probably put on ten pounds, but not necessarily grown much taller. So, 12’s are too small in the butt and thighs, 14”s are too long and too big in the waist, 12 plusses were the right length, but so big we could have hidden another kid in there with her. She wants LOW rise, but then complains when she sits on the floor (as she insists on testing in every fitting room) and the back rides so low her crack shows. She wants the big flare leg that is so popular, but because her legs are short, it’s like a stinking wedding train dragging behind her. I estimate she tried on 4,823 pairs of jeans. And every pair had a belt she had to fasten and unfasten. Not one pair fit.

I was exhausted, and we hadn’t even started on the shirts yet.

I love Brayden dearly, but I’ll be the first to tell you she has crap taste in clothes. I could take her to the nicest, most upscale department store in the state, and she will instantly gravitate to the clearance rack with the cheapest, tackiest, most poorly made clothes in the whole store. The shiny-er, and sparkly-er, and shimmery-er, the better. Sequins a plus -- GLITTER a double plus.

Then, because she’s just starting to develop a chest (won’t she be glad I shared *that* with you in years to come?) and she can’t stand her shirts to be skin tight (Thank you, God, at least we did one thing right) she’s topping out the girl sizes … girl plus sizes hang on her like gunny sacks … and junior sizes are flat-out too big. Plus, a lot of the Junior stuff seems to be even tackier and sequiny-er than the smaller sizes. I’m working very hard NOT to raise a Britney Spears Jr. but those clothes designers sure aren’t helping.

Anyway. The really depressing moment of the evening was when we discovered she has officially outgrown the biggest size in Children’s Place, one of my all-time favorite stores. After that disappointment, I caved and let her buy a piece-o-crap High School Musical long sleeve T from JC Penneys that will no doubt fall apart and shrink to doll size the first time we wash it. But at least we didn’t come home empty handed.

Then, the shoes --- my God, the drama of the shoes. I would swear, based on her behavior whilst trying on shoes, that she has some sort of sensory processing disorder. That, or she’s a spoiled rotten brat. One of the two, anyway.

First we disagreed over the general GOAL and PURPOSE of the shoes. I was looking for casual shoes she could wear with blue jeans; something besides tennis shoes. SHE was looking for something that would have been more appropriate for a Kid Rock video. And the problem is, we discovered tonight that she currently wears a size 8, which means not only are we forced to shop for Junior shoes, which we also discovered tonight means slim to none pickings, or we were in the ladies department where everything is too dressy. Plus, if her feet are already that big, she’s probably going to be twenty-seven feet tall, hence the too-long blue jean problem will soon disappear to be replaced with a permanent high-water situation.

We tried on shoes in eight, count ‘em, EIGHT stores tonight. Personally, I prefer the stores that have all their stock right out on the floor, so she and I can help ourselves to the various sizes, considering this is how most of our conversations went:

Kristie: "What do you think of these?" {indicating a black ankle boot with a modest heel}

Brayden: "I don’t like ankle boots. Can I get knee-high boots? Ooh, look! Those have fringe!"

Kristie (snort!): "No, I’m not buying you knee high boots .. these are to wear with blue jeans. What do you think you are, a go-go dancer?"

Brayden: "Well if I can’t have knee highs then I want low ones."

Kristie: "Here, here, try these."

Brayden: "That buckle is ugly."

Kristie: "Oh, for Pete’s sake!"

Brayden (sulking): "Fine, I’ll try them on."

Kristie: "Here’s a 7."

Brayden: (cue whining voice): "They’re too tight! I can’t even fit my foot in them! Ow! Ow!"

Kristie: "Calm down …. Here’s a 7 1/2."

Brayden: (cue dramatic voice) "They’re still too tight …. I don’t like them! They’re hurting my toes!!! Why can’t I try those?" {Indicating some bizarre pair of freaky crocheted pumps with a six inch heel. Or something, I wasn’t even sure.} "You never let me have anything I want, and those won’t hurt my feet!"

This is the point where I got annoyed, made a comment about ungrateful children, then made another comment about trying on boots with thick sports socks, and then snatched a pair of trouser socks off the rack, ripped open the package, and thrust them at Brayden.

Kristie: "Here, your socks are why the shoes are too tight, put this on. OK, is that better? Now … try the 8."

Brayden: "They’re too tight across the toes, but too big around my ankle."

And she proceeds to walk across the shoe department and yes, the shoe comes right off the back of her foot, at which point she makes a big display of almost falling down because of “these stupid shoes! Ugh! They’re all wrong!!!”

I glance at the helper-girl, only to discover she is psychic and can read my mind, as she says aloud, “Nope, no extra wides in that style.”

Damn.

Brayden: "Should I try the 9?"

Kristie: "Why would you try the 9? The 8’s are falling off your feet!"

Brayden: "They’re still too tight on the toes and I don’t even like these. Why can’t I have this pair of brown plaid lace-up Sketchers with the wedge heel? Or these hot pink party sandals? Or look, here’s another pair of knee-high boots!"

Kristie: "Because none of those match ANYHING in your closet!!! And for the last time, no knee-high-boots!"

This was about when I looked at the cashier and asked her to please kill me now. Or wait, let me pay for the trouser socks I opened, and THEN kill me now. The heck with this mother-daughter bonding crap.

My child will be the naked, barefoot one at school. Because I just don’t have the stamina to try again.

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PS. I do feel compelled to mention, so that people will know (mainly the one or two people who have the need to e-mail me on a regular basis and let me know what a fucking whining complainer I am) that I *AM* kidding. The above journal entry is a JOKE. I mean, it all happened, exactly like I said, right down to the drama in the fitting room with the whole butt-crack thing, but the “kill me now” and “I’d rather be boiled alive” is clearly an exaggeration. Well, maybe not CLEARLY, if you’re not familiar with my sense of humor. But it’s supposed to be funny. I have no misconceptions that there are other moms out there who would give anything for a shopping date with their daughters. Even if their daughters are hard to please and impossible to find clothes for and the simple sight of a shoe store gives the moms hives. I KNOW that I’m lucky.