Polka Dot Confection posted 6/27/2008 4:40:36 PM | 28 kudos what's this?     report abuse

LaughTillYaPuke

Shopping. I hate it. It's one of those things that I will only do for those that I really love. I'm one of those freaks that makes out their grocery lists by isle so that I can get out of there as quick as possible.

So just as the Olympic athlete has to prime their mind and bodies for competition, so must I prepare myself for a shopping expedition. This is basically the same zen one must find prior to going to the dentist. It must be done. There will be pain. And the smell of burning flesh and bone must be endured. Mental promises are made. I will allow myself to have a melt down at 3:00. I don't care where I am or who I am with, all holy hell will break loose. Members of your shopping party should be warned in advance. And just as with disciplining a wayward child, you must follow through with said melt down so that they will believe you the first time on future shopping trips.

So it is time for daughter to start scoping out 8th grade graduation dresses. Believe it or not, I am kind of looking forward to this trip. I however do not inform her of this. She would quickly take advantage and make me crawl through Claires Boutique trying to suck my tits in so as to not knock down 500 pair of pierced earrings precariously balanced on a piece of bazooka bubble gum. We know each others weaknesses, and one would think this would make the trip easier. She has resorted to treating me like a toddler with promises of sit down treats and helium balloons for my good behavior. Sadly, this works more often than you would think.

We go over the rules in the car. She WILL have an open mind. Dresses that look like a Wal-mart bag on a hanger may just look pretty when filled out with hips and boobs. Make and effort and try them on. And as with any rule, consequences are discussed. If she digs in her heels waiting for a Glinda the Good Witch dress, I will have her father take her shopping. Enough said. The gauntlet has been thrown, it is her choice as to how this trip will play out. Let the games begin. Price is not discussed, and this one tid-bit lets her know that I plan on purchasing the most beautiful dress that she can find. Cost is not a factor, my tolerance threshold is.

My child stares straight ahead and wisely cruises right past claire's boutique onto "Deb's, a reasonably priced teenage prostitute clothiers. She points to a dress high up on the wall, "that's pretty". Why yes it is. And I am off and running. In 2.68 minutes I have amassed 30 dresses draped over my arms and she has already positioned herself next to a fitting room. Smart girl. The sign says "limit 3 items". Some rules are meant to be broken and she crams as much crinoline as the fitting room will hold. The parade begins. And I am stunned at how beautiful she is. Hair pulled into a ponytail for efficiency, and it only highlights her incredible profile. My attitude just got adjusted.

She makes positive comments about each dress that she tries on, but so far it is obvious that while she will settle for any one of them, so far, none of them make her feel beautiful. I grab each one in turn and slide them back onto the hanger and put them away myself. I understand this moment. I really do. They are all pretty, and pretty on her. But she doesn't feel incredible in them. And then she steps out of the fitting room in her bare feet. Towering 8 inches above me in a green polka dotted number.

"Holy shit". I swear right in the middle of the store. Big grin and she clasps her hands in front of her and twirls around knocking a couple of belts off a display. And this is it. It's the one. That cheesy little frock looks like it just hopped off the cover of 17 magazine and she looks absolutely stunning. A haggard mother leaning against a shoe rack looks at her and says one word. "Wow". And I must say, her word choice was more appropriate than mine and spot on too.

I ask her how she feels in it. Just beautiful mom. She skips off into the fitting room and hands me all the dresses over the top, sliding the hangers underneath the door. I toss all of the dresses but the green polka dot number on top of the return rack without hanging them back up. They are corpses for some other girl. The unworthy of the perfect dress.

I lay out the dress on the counter and snap my credit card on the counter next to it. I don't even want to know what it costs. I will allow nothing to ruin this moment. She looked stunning and felt beautiful, this one is going to be from me. And I don't care how long I have to spend paying it off. What the hell else am I working for anyway? Food? Gas? Electricity? She comes up and holds my hand while they are ringing it up. Trying not to cry. I can't remember the last time I have seen her this happy. It's not so much the tears, it's the holding my hand in public. And that boys and girls was worth every penny of that dress.

A moment of perfection bought and paid for. That she let's me suck some of the joy in for myself is an added bonus. And oh how her father is going to shit when he sees the glimpse of her cleavage and the skirt about 4 inches above her knee. This will be his reality check. She is a young woman who has made great choices for herself in life and I'm not going to make her cover it up to make anyone else happy. She is a lady right down to her core. That she happens to be a beautiful one as well is something he and many others are going to have to come to grasps with on their own.

We go out to the car and see a puddle under it. The check engine light is on and so is the check coolant light. Not good. $20.00 later we are pouring coolant in every 10 miles just to get home. But I'll be damned if that is going to dampen our wonderful day together. She is nervous when i drop her off at dads. How much is this going to cost? I know that is what she is thinking. I barley make it home with that car and the phone is ringing. It's her. She wants to make sure that I got home alright. And there it is. There is the kid that I have been trying to describe to you. More perfect than anything else I have seen walking this earth. And in the end, I'm the one that feels beautiful. Because in the end, does life get any better than this?

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Blogs by LaughTillYaPuke: Back Door Love The Long Road We Lived the Same I Dream of real Men The Lint Roller I Live like this all Day Long Ride Hate, Misery, and the relief that only comes from sharing it Strut Agenda's The Cloying Sweetness of Roses Burning a Hole in my Pocket Polka Dot Confection Something Delectable I dance with the Goose Man, Coo Coo Kachoo Words, Blood and the Nemesis Lunch Lady Land Knowledge is Power We forget to live Madness and Mayhem As Good as Gone And I Run The Re-Gifter Blogging Innocence Choose our own Destiny....The End