Cinderella

I thought the clothing raids were still a few years away. Inevitable, yes. But still on the horizon. Not yet.

I seem to say that a lot about her, "not yet." And more and more often Not Yet is turning into Right Now. She’s growing fast, and her feet are well ahead of her body. She’s big enough to steal shoes from her aunties, but she’s still a half size too small for mine.

When she turned 13 a mere four months ago, some of my clothes began to fit. The borrowing started innocently enough with a skirt needed for a Spanish project. Hey, it’s school. Then she needed a nice sweater to wear for graduation. Now my whole closet feels vulnerable. Right before she left for France I caught her in a skirt I love. Part of why I love it is that it doubles as a shirt, such a clever skirt. It’s been missing for weeks. Now I know why – she’s been wearing it as a shirt.

The whole thing seems ridiculous on paper. She’s just over 5 feet tall (5’1? 5’2? I should have a better handle on these details) and I’m 5’7. I outweigh her by a good 35 pounds. And no, “good” is probably not the right word, but the point is that I outweigh her by a lot. Enough so that my clothes should be safe from Lilliputians. But no. My shirts, skirts and here come the shoes -- are definitely up for grabs. And she wants them all. Well except for that one shirt “that looks like an old lady shirt. Not that you’re an old lady, Maman, it looks good on you, but on me it looks weird…” Uh huh.

You may have gathered that I’m a little possessive about my clothes. We didn’t have much money growing up and nice clothes were hard to get. One of my first jobs was – shocker – at a clothing store. My sister and I didn’t get along and I never shared my nice stuff with her. To get even she used to gaslight me: she’d steal my clothes, change into them at school, change out of them to come home and then wad them up in a little ball in the back of my closet. I was both forgetful and messy, so I never could figure out if I had misplaced them or if she was taking them. One day, I can’t remember why, my Mom and I showed up at her school in the middle of the day and I caught her in my favorite dress. PROOF!

Yeah, I’ve had some issues.

I have mixed feelings about my girl wearing my clothes. One the one hand, it’s pretty convenient to grab something out of my closet for one of her rare events, instead of buying her a new dress that she will almost certainly, despite many promises, never wear again. On the other hand, I found the skirt she used for the Spanish project wadded up in a ball on the floor. Post-trauma memories came rushing back from my 16 year-old self as I searched the skirt for signs of permanent damage. My stuff. In a ball. Much coveted, then untended. Next to it, also in a ball, was my sweater.

The clothes were instantly repossessed and I gave the lecture all mothers eventually give: “If you can’t take care of my stuff you can’t borrow it!” Punctuated with a talk-to-the-hand sign designed to hold off the imminent barrage of excuses. It used to work when she was little, but not today. I had to listen to a slew of “ I don’t know how that happened! I’m sorry! It was right there in my closet! I hung it up! I thought I gave it back!? Are you sure you didn’t bring it back!? How did it get there!? Are you SURE it was on the floor!?”

And yet, I am such a sap that when she puts her not-so-little head on my shoulder and pleads “Please, Maman, please! I promise I’ll take good care of it” I start to waiver. She’s my girl after all, and in spite of my mixed emotions, there is something very fun about dressing her up in my clothes. Except for those shoes. Those shoes you have to take off right now. No, I mean now. I love you but I draw the line at those shoes. My favorite pumps and they don’t make them anymore. Because the company doesn’t exist anymore. And because they’re out of style. But they’ll be back in style again in a few years so take them off. Now.

The sweater went with her to France, and it’s 50/50 whether I’ll ever see it again. But I know whenever she puts it on, she’ll think of me. And while she really does like the sweater itself, what she likes most about it is that it’s mine.

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I look back on this period with joy. You will, too. I suggest you set some things aside and say, "these are not on the borrow list, the rest is negotiable." And maybe even go shopping next season for something she chooses that you will sometimes borrow from her. :-)

Posted by: liliales | 06/28/2011 at 04:29 PM