We have a lot of discussions regarding modesty around our home. My 11 year old is bombarded by images of young girls wearing barely nothing, and our ideas of what is tasteful, modest, and fashionable often clash.
And I tell you, we monitor her television viewing, but all she has to do is open her eyes every time we step out in public, and get mixed messages about what is appropriate and what is not.
And this is what you might call a classic case of karma. Because as a child of the 60’s and 70’s, I pushed the fashion limits and my parents sanity with string bikinis, short shorts, and hip huggers that could only be kept with the use of thumb tacks. I remember well being sent home from junior high school because I was wearing a pair of pants with slits that went up both sides. My mother warned me, but I did not listen.
I don’t even warn my daughter. I just tell her to go back to her room and try again.
I really look forward to the teenage years.
Our talks of modesty began when Cailey was first enamored with Ariel, the Little Mermaid. If you’ll recall, Ariel did not dress very modestly. When Cailey first noticed this, she noted, “MOMMY! Ariel is wearing booby caps!” I think Ariel’s mother should have made her wear a rash guard. But alas Ariel’s mother was killed off long before she reached adolescence, what with this being a Disney movie and all. So there you have it.
My son is now getting in on the action. This week I decided that I would take advantage of SENIOR MONDAY at our local Beall’s Outlet store. I’ve decided to embrace the discount, and allow any store that considers 50 a SENIOR to bestow upon me a deal.
I’ve swallowed my pride, and opened up my change purse.
My girls wanted to shop for board shorts with their own money, so I was waiting for them outside of the dressing room. And at the same time trying to keep Jensen occupied.
He discovered his own form of entertainment. As he is wont to do.
Jensen noticed a rack of lingerie, and made a mad dash towards it. “BOOBIES!” And with that he reached up two little hands and felt up a padded bra hanging innocently on the hanger. And what luck, as you might imagine, Jensen’s voice tends to carry. To each of the four corners of the store.
I heard a horrified “JENSEN!” coming from the dressing room which housed Cailey.
As I was hurriedly ushering him out of the lingerie department, I had to hold both of his hands to keep him from violating the red lacy underdrawers on display.
Somehow, I fear that my issues with appropriate dress of two pre-teen daughters are going to be the least of my worries.