Yesterday I bought Izzy her first real “girl” dress. Up until now she’s been wearing leggings and t-shirts with one of her 5 tutus, or, much to her Nana’s disapproval, my tops as dresses!
We entered the shop, bang on opening time. Three hopeful faces turned to us picturing their first sale of the day. Would they know Izzy was a biological boy? Would shock and judgment cloud their smiles? Would heart-break creep in to this first exploration in to the female domain of dress buying? Would it be OK?
It was fine! It was much more than fine. It was liberating. It was joyous. It was monumental in our journey together.
When she spotted a gorgeous sequined tulle number from 50 metres, available in three colors, I knew that not only was I was going to have to do some creative accounting with the grocery money this week, but that my daughter was behaving just like any other four year old sequin loving girly girl!
The tulle number was a party dress, perfect for my sister’s wedding in December but not really what I had in mind!
With the help of the shop attendant’s cajoling, promises of stickers and a pink balloon thrown in, we steered Izzy to a row of beautiful 1950’s housewife type frocks. The type I’ve bought for my little nieces ans oohed and ahhed over on previous visits to this shop.
She tried it on. She was so happy. She’s wearing it to kindy today. I know she’ll be over dressed. I know she’ll get paint and mud on it, but it doesn’t matter. She’s had to compromise her dress sense for so long she deserves a little glamour. And whats more I’m giving myself permission to enjoy this too!