Who's That Girl?

Princess has, over the course of the summer, become quite a princess.

I do not mean that in a complimentary way.

Her vocabulary has expanded to include such teenage-isms as:

"Well, duh!"

"Mom, you're embarrassing me."

"That's just lame."

"You treat me like a servant!"

"This is stupid."

"I hate you."

Yes, it has been quite an eventful summer, seeing as how my 5-year-old has aged about 10 years in the course of 9 weeks.  I have to confess, I was beginning to despair.  If she is acting like this now, by the time she's 15 I'll be ready to send her to some awful Hogwarts-style boarding school where, I'm sure, she would be a Slytherin.  I went from feeling like this:

To this:

At least Mrs. Bates got to rest sometimes.

But then, as I was in despair, things began to lift.  We (meaning I) cleaned Princess' room last weekend when an infestation of ants made it necessary to remove her painstakingly-collected cache of Pop-Tart crusts from beneath her bed.  Her room is still clean, because she has been picking up after herself.

Then she began VOLUNTARILY clearing the table after meals and scraping the plates and putting them in the sink.  Then she cleans the table.

Then, last night, I called her to come to me.  She didn't come for a few minutes, and I was ready to be upset with her, but she explained that she HAD BEEN PICKING UP THE TOY ROOM.  When I went upstairs to check, EVERY TOY WAS PUT AWAY.

I didn't quite know how to react.

Despite a few lapses into teenage territory, the past few days have been wonderful.  I know it is smooth sailing from here on out.

Shopping Adventures

Last week my wonderful Aunt Amazing and Cousin Firecracker took me shopping.  They met me in Houston's Rice Village at a store called White House Black Market.  This is a store I've seen but have always been afraid to set foot in, due to my fear that I will have a Pretty Woman-style encounter with snooty saleswomen who will refuse to serve someone so clearly out of her element.

Since my weight loss I have stuck to Old Navy, mostly, with occasional adventures into The Gap.  My wardrobe consists of "kid clothes": jeans, chinos, polo shirts, and tees, mostly.  These are cheap and the sizes are fairly forgiving.  My aunt, who is, after all, amazing, got me right into the world of fashion and fit.

I gravitated immediately to the clearance section of the store and began to make some selections.  My salesgirl, Kim, offered to take my things to a dressing room.  She walked off, then returned immediately.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I can't let you try these on.  None of these things will fit you."

"Buh?" I managed as my bowels loosened dangerously.  I could just imagine the security force that would take me from the store, chanting "Not one of us!" as I struggled in futile protest.

"You've chosen things that are too big," she explained apologetically.  "You should really be looking at smalls, maybe mediums."

"Buh," I agreed.

"I'll pick out some things for you," she said.  I met her in the dressing room and tried on size 6 jeans.  They didn't fit.  I needed a size 4, which were fine.  The top and cardigan, each a small, fit perfectly.  For the first time in years, I looked at myself in a full-length mirror.

It was pretty awesome.  I was tall and lean, fashionably attired and not at all stupid-looking.  I felt that I had finally "made it," somehow.

I couldn't afford to buy much, but I bought that first outfit.  I don't know when or where I will wear it, but I wanted to have it to remind me of the day I saw myself for the first time.  I wish I'd had a camera, but if I get a picture of myself in it, I'll post it.  Kim brought me tons of outfits, none of which really measured up to that first one, but I got a few more things (and was gifted with a gorgeous cardigan from my aunt and a delightful skirt from my cousin, who are wonderful amazing generous beautiful blindingly intelligent women) and wore high heels for the first time since prom.

Life is pretty sweet.