Bringing Classy Back

This has nothing to do with remodeling, redecorating, or designing anything. Kind of...I just had an epiphany that it sort of does: Remodeling our children. This post though is more specifically our girls.

Yeah, I'm not a parent yet, but I still have opinions on parenting. Maybe that isn't allowed. Regardless, I still have them. Today is one of those days where I'm all like, "Are you for real right now?" and yes. It's for real.

Let me begin:

How is it okay to let our daughters walk around like mini-hookers? So what if they are pretty—they look like strumpets in their frilly miniskirts and disco off the shoulder tops, with their glitter blue eye shadow and their fishnets and their boots. Even if she happens to be wearing tights with her black leather mini, neon leopard top and heels, guess what? You can see through tights. and she better not bend over or everything is going to come tumbling out.

If my daughter walked out of the house looking like some hungover rock-star chic (sorry Ke$ha) I would pray I was blind and deaf and that I had no accountability for what she wore. The thing is the majority of parents out there aren’t blind. Are you lazy? Scared? Do you honestly not care that I can pretty much see your daughter’s butt cheeks hanging out of her skirt as she walks away? You should be ashamed. I'm ashamed just looking in her general direction.

I’m a 23 year old Misses (Like, Mrs.). Saying woman makes me feel old, but my age clearly states that I can no longer claim the title of “girl.” I would say lady, but I feel I'm just a few notches short of classy to be called a lady. (I mean have you heard me speak?)  I must admit I wore a miniskirt once, and it only took those few hours to make me feel cheap, vulnerable, and gross. (If my parents are reading this, they probably just puked in their own mouths). That one time was after I had moved away from my parent’s house, and there was no way in this universe I would have ever left the house wearing a miniskirt. For good reason. No, I didn’t get hollered at, no one honked when I walked by, and no one tried to rape me. Instead, I got totally eye-groped. It was uncomfortable and I hated it. From that moment I never wore a miniskirt, or even short skirt again. My body is mine fool, back off. From that I gained a few ounces of self-respect.

Why on earth would we allow our daughters to dress in a fashion where they could potentially feel like a toy? Why would we, as parents, pay for the trash they are wearing? Why would we allow our sons to date girls who dressed like they were working the night shift on the corner?  We are parents, not best friends. We are mentors, not sidekicks. We are the bosses, not the interns.

It is possible to be pretty and appealing as opposed to pretty and sleazy. Let’s bring classy back people and teach our daughters (and ourselves) some self-respect.

Holla!

Put some clothes on.