My Generation

Musical Musings #14: My Generation

I pouted and put my hands on my hips. Why does Mum think she can tell me what I can wear? I’m not a baby! I grab the matching top and skirt and hide them in the clothes basket and start to put on some tiny shorts.

“Honey, I don’t think I’ll be taking you anywhere in those.” Mum popped her head round the corner with half her make-up on.” I think they might be a tinsy tiny bit small, don’t you?” She said smiling and taking them off me.

I pouted even further.

“And you can take that storm cloud off your face Miss. Get dressed quickly or we will be late.” Mum said firmly as she left the room.

All the other girls wear funky labeled clothes with recognizable stars, branding or personalities. Why do I have to wear hand me downs or old stuff from the charity store?

I kicked my wooden trunk, but forgot I had no shoes and it ended up hurting like mad. I refused to let on that it did – even to my brother who sat leering at me and urging me to hurry up and get dressed.

“Get out of my room!” I shrieked, sending him scurrying to his own.

“Here, let me do your hair sweety.” Mum cooed as she brushed it into pigtails.

“Aww mum I hate pigtales. They are for little girls” I moaned.

“But darling you look so cute in them” Mums concerned face came close to mine seeking a kiss which I expertly avoided.

“I am not cute!” I stormed even further and tore them out.

“Alright – but hurry and get dressed please” soothed Mum as she rushed out looking for her handbag.

My eyes darted to the cupboard and spied an outfit that would be perfect for today. I reasoned that if I took a long time in getting out to the car, by the time I did, it would be too late to get changed and Mum would have to let me wear what I wanted.

“I’m just doing my hair!” I shouted as I wriggled into the shiny tight top.

“Just going to the toilet!” I yelled up the hallway as I smudged on some of mums lipstick and puffed some of her perfume down my top – unsure why that was important, but did it anyway.

I wrinkled my nose. Phew, I smelt like all the old ladies at mums club. I frantically tried to wipe it off with a washer, but that made it spread further on my chest. In my haste I knocked over the lipstick container and the lay sprawled over the bathroom.

“Come on luv – your brothers already in the car!” came the call.

“Coming!” I hollered triumphantly as I ran up the hallway , resplendent in every bangle and necklace my jewelry box contained, bedecked in party attire with a fair smattering of red lipstick.

Mums face was a picture, but she broke into a smile quickly. “Well honey, if that’s what you want to wear, that’s fine. Hop in the car, I’ll do your safety harness up.”

I flounced confidently to the car, grinning, secure in the knowledge that I had won the fashion wars once again.



Authors note: I don’t need to wait for a teenage daughter and all the joys they bring. I have a three year old. This is a direct observation of this mornings events and fitted in perfectly with the them for this weeks Musings.