I was at a music concert last night, Anna was singing in the chorus. The kids did sound angelic and they had cute faces and the band squeaked and squawked its way through several "traditional" pieces (Mary Had a Little Lamb, Twinkle Twinkle, and the grand finale, Jingle Bells). Again, all very cute and festive and funny, especially when the beginner clarinets would get going and suddenly each song was riddled with the sounds of what could only be described as ailing geese. I giggled quietly into my coat.
What was truly amazing and disturbing about the concert last night was not the reed instruments, or the kid who fainted on the risers. Nope, what really had me in awe was the clothing of the children.
Let me reiterate the word children here. CHILDREN.
When your kid's band/chorus director says "wear something nice" for the concert, what do people imagine in their minds?
Well, let's make a list of what I saw yesterday, with the caveat that I am by far a prude, I was raised by French Indians (derelicts basically), and that I have two baby daddies, just so no one thinks I'm a Puritan writing this little litany.
Ok, so, gear I saw at the CHILDRENS' concert
A filmy white gown cut above the knee with a black velvet sequined band under the bust, white high heels, no stockings--on a fifth grader. Was she going to work later?
A maroon, nylon, running suit stretched to capacity on its very innocent, very obese wearer.
Thigh high, brown leather hooker boots over leggings--fifth grader
80's makeup, complete with eyeshadow that extended beyond the brow--third grader
A ruched polyester fairy dress, complete with a space for cleavage, with white cowgirl boots, not stockings (of course) and a sequined shrug--obese fourth grader
Tell me something ain't wrong here....and as these little hussies and pimps in the making are leavng their homes, what are their folks/guardians thinking?
"Oh, that looks nice..." Are you kidding me?
Please share anything you've seen on the kids' fashion scene that is disturbing. I am officially intrigued.
This is a darkly humorous bit about life as a rural mother and freelance writer in Western Massachusetts. Little Appalachia, if you will. The title, I feel, clearly reflects how life is coming at me like an overloaded freight train, and my own ridiculous response to it. Me VERSUS all; teenage children, people who want me to work for free, conservative government, food karma, weird menfolk. You'll either laugh, shrug your shoulders, or call DSS immediately. Happy reading.
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