I am Skirt Mum

​There are DVDs in the bath. 😲

Because that’s the most obvious place to keep the DVDs.

I have no idea why.

  But there they are….

And there they’ll stay until tomorrow when normality and “give-a-shit” return. πŸ˜‚
Yesterday, my two little fashionistas-in-training and I went shopping.  
I was delighted when Mini-Me replied “Oh yes Mammy!” to “Will you help Mammy pick a new outfit for tonight?”

 I just assumed we’d finally reached that lovely part of Mammy/daughterness where we can go into clothes shops WITHOUT her screaming “NOOOOOOOO!” once she realises it’s not the wonderful toy-filled world of “Smuffs” or that there is ZERO chance of her finding a shelf with sweeties ANYWHERE in the store.
And indeed, she was very well behaved.

She walked around the shop pointing at dresses and tops and announcing things like “Oooooh dis is Bootiful!” and “What about dis one Mammy?”
I wasn’t quite prepared for her ENTHUSIASM to be honest.
I certainly wasn’t prepared for her HONESTY either.
I picked up a slinky silk skirt.

“That’s too small for you”.
I looked at a funky wee top.

“Dat’s not for Mammies.  DAT’S for Childwen like me.”
I lifted a Mini skirt.

“That’s Aunty Áine’s.” ( My 17 year old sister…)

 Subtext: you’re way too old for Mini skirts Mamma Bear.
She was standing there in a fricken Elsa dress, telling ME what I should wear. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
And yet, I DID find myself putting the items she disapproved of back on the rails.

Isn’t that ridiculous?

I was letting my baby girl influence my opinion of things that I was OBVIOUSLY attracted to for SOME reason.

I had to remind myself that she’s  FOUR and obviously I needed to set an example that you shouldn’t buy clothes based on what someone else likes. 

No.

My girls will learn to wear whatever the Feck they like. (Note the frequent trips to town dressed as Princess. When else can you do that but when you’re 4?) πŸ’–πŸ’–
I found a less sliplike skirt and a top with a little bit more material around the MumTum.

Then I reached for the Mini skirt and said pointedly “You know what? Mammy likes this so I’m going to buy it.”
Did I teach her positive body image?

Well of course not.  She’d found a shelf of furry keyrings and sparkly phonecovers and was trying to figure out how to steal them, the little criminal. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

So I paid for the outfit, mini skirt and all, and home we went.
I packed both skirts and went off to (the utterly AMAZING) MacNean House, determined that I am STILL a #glammymammy and that thanks to #operationskinnyarse I could INDEED wear a teeny tiny Mini skirt if I want to…
But then when we got there, I only had time for 2 Gins before dinner, so the longer skirt went on and the Mini skirt remained in the suitcase like the shameless HUSSY that it is.
I have as much business in a feckin leather Mini-skirt as the DVD’s do in the bloody BATH!


I’ll return it tomorrow.
Actually, NO.

I won’t.
It will hang in my wardrobe and, I PROMISE, some night soon, there MIGHT just be enough Gin!

πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰

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