Baby Slut Wear

(Title courtesy of friend Jonathan Bradlow.)

Before I get on a roll here, let me preface this with:  I'm not conservative or even particularly religious.  So, when somebody like *me* starts to criticize what parents let their kids wear, you know there's a chance that the proverbial line really HAS been crossed.

All three of my kids had graduations yesterday -- younger son from kindergarten, older son from fifth grade, daughter from eighth.  Yes, I now have a kid in HIGH SCHOOL.

I'm still looking for my bifocals and my cane.  I'm not sure how it's possible that my baby is that old.  But she is.  And she's looking forward to getting her learner's permit in six months too.  God help me.  I'm so not ready for that.

Back to the topic:  kids' clothing.

I can't complain about what the kindergarten crowd was wearing; I wasn't there because both boys' ceremonies were at the exact same time (and in different schools), so my husband went to the Kindergartner's one and I went to the fifth grader's.  From the pics I saw, the kindergarten girls wore appropriate little-girl dresses.  No complaints.  The parents apparently understand that their girls are barely out of toddler hood.

By fifth grade, however, a lot of parents appear to think their girls are a whole lot older than they really are.

When the fifth grade kids came into the auditorium, I was struck by the number of the girls wearing strapless dresses AND high heels.  Some even had professionally styled hair (either that, or their moms or dads are way better at hair styling than I am).  Even more common were spaghetti-strap dresses, baby doll style dresses (think lingerie style) and very short skirts.

They are TEN YEARS OLD, eleven at most.

The boys, in contrast, were either dressed in nothing particularly special at all, or wore button-down or polo-style shirts with dress slacks.  I saw a few ties as well as one kid dressed completely in white with a matching hat.  In any case, the boys looked like boys.  A little awkward.  A little immature.  A whole lot bored.

The girls looked like somebody had decided to make them grow up real fast.

It is true that many fifth grade girls are well into puberty and so already look older than their male peers.  I get that.  But that is not a sufficient excuse for much of the clothing I saw, which was simply too mature and far too "sexy" to be appropriate for 10- and 11-year-old girls, particularly at a school event.

If I thought that I'd feel better at the eighth grade graduation, I was wrong.

Kids (and parents) REALLY went all out for this one.  (What is left to do in high school?)  Several girls were wearing strapless black mini dresses with (fake, I hope) diamond jewelry, fancy up-dos for their hair, and high-heeled glittery sandals with what looked like professional pedicures.  One girl had on the strappy, four-inch heeled silver sandals with a skin-tight, floor-length, beaded, spaghetti-strap gown with a back that stopped just above her butt.  No exaggeration.

I looked around.  Was I really in line for the Emmys?  Nope, just standing in line with parents waiting to get into a hot gym to watch 180 eighth graders make the ceremonial transition to high school.

What's appropriate?   My definition of "appropriate" differs on the age of the kid.  What is appropriate for a fifth grade girl (knee-length skirt, blouse or tank top, lightweight sweater as necessary) is different from what is right for an eighth grade one (I, for instance, would -- and did -- allow a sleeveless dress, but with only minimal heels and no professional hairstyle and only light makeup).  By the time they are eighteen, they can wear whatever inappropriate and low-class thing they want.  It's their body, their life.  Etc.  But until then...

I'm sympathetic to the argument that "it's so hard to find appropriate clothing for girls these days". It IS hard to find appropriate clothing for girls.  While boys' clothing is boring (and, for instance, their shorts keep getting LONGER and BAGGIER), girls' clothing changes, it seems, monthly, and their shorts and skirts keep getting shorter and tighter.

We'll leave out the entire discussion of what percentage of the American population (at any age) can even wear such clothing and look good in it.  Another disturbing trend was the percentage of muffin tops and flab on display.

Go into a store and try to look for cute -- but not "slutty" -- clothes for girls say, over size 10 (which for a lot of kids, is age EIGHT).  You'll find rack after rack of skin-tight, cheaply-made, low-cut, sleeveless, short clothes for girls.  Or clothes that just blatantly advertise sex:  "I'm sexy"  "I'm cute"  "Hot" etc.  There was recently an article about padded bras for little girls.  Try to find something that you and your kid can agree on and that doesn't make your kid look too mature or like a tramp.

Go home and take an Excedrin; you'll need it.

It's not an easy job. My daughter has gone to school on more days than I like to admit wearing clothes that I'm not 100% comfortable with (a lightweight sweater over her tops is our usual compromise; the shortness of her skirts gives me a heart attack, but fortunately, she only owns two of them).  Having arguments over clothing is somewhat of a rite of passage (for both boys and girls -- I heard two fathers complaining yesterday that they couldn't convince their sons to "clean up a little more" for the ceremony).  Remembering you're the parent and that certain compromises will not be made is part of a parent's job; in other words my sons had to wear their polo shirts and my daughter could not wear a spaghetti strap dress to eighth grade graduation.  She could wear a sleeveless dress and she could wear light makeup.

It's tough to fight the trend of slut wear, but it's not impossible.  And it doesn't have to break the budget, either.  I bought my daughter's 8th grade dress for $49 from Delias.com (a site that, in general, I actually highly criticize for its slutty clothing).  She wore flats she already had (we'd bought them before Thanksgiving).  The flats were not only cute, but practical (she didn't have to take off her shoes at the dance, like nearly all the other girls did).  Her necklace, which I have worn on occasion to my lectures, came from Target.

As the fifth (and eighth) grade girls tripped across the stages in their heels, tugging at their strapless gowns to make sure they didn't fall off, I heard a few parents whispering, "I'm so glad I have boys".  That comment made me sad.  I LOVE having a girl.  The problem isn't the girls; it's a market that tells girls from the earliest of ages that their value is their (sexy) appearance.

And the way we could change that market would be not to buy baby slut wear and to give our girls the message that they can be beautiful and confident -- and even look like American kids -- without showing quite so much of their skin.    They don't need to dress in burkas, but a little more left to the imagination, particularly for those under the age of 18, would be a refreshing change.

After all, if the trend continues, all they'll have left to model for high school graduation is lingerie itself.

The Hell of Bra Shopping

NOTE:  If you're a guy, you might want to skip this one.  If you read it anyway, nice comments would be appreciated.

Blogging about personal experiences runs the risk of exposing one's soft underbelly and making one far too vulnerable to ridicule.  I've worried all night about this blog topic, but have decided to post it anyway because boobs are ubiquitous (50 percent of the world's population has them!) and I'm sure I'm not alone in hating most of my bra-shopping experiences.  And, as the 1960s showed us (if not earlier), the personal is political.

Yesterday, I went bra shopping. This would have been a completely un-blog-worthy experience had it gone as I had hoped (go in, find bra I like, find it in my size, buy it, leave).  It, of course, did not.

I walked directly to the dressing rooms, asked to be put in one, and for the women to bring me bras to try on (this is standard operating procedure at Victoria's Secret).

"Can you bring me some bras to try on?  I'm a size 36A."

"Oh!" (Skinny chick with big breasts and perfect skin stares at me.  Her eyebrows go up to hairline.)  "That is a really unusual size.  We don't have much to offer you."

For a second, I felt like a creature from Ripley's Believe It or Not.  I'm that unusual?  Really?

Now, I wasn't *completely* surprised about hearing this, only because the last time I went bra shopping (also at Victoria's Secret) the woman tried to convince me that I couldn't really be a 36A; I must really be a 34B.  When she measured me, she said, "Oh, you really are a 36A."

She said that in the same voice that, I imagine, she would use to say, "Oh, you really do have leukemia."

In other words, how disappointing that a) I've got small boobs and b) I've bot a "big" rib cage.  My body should know that if it has the former, it should not have the latter.

The woman had then gone on to reassure me:  "We can find something to help you."  Again, the same tone in which one would reassure a cancer patient that chemo will save her life.

I found myself, in the dressing room, actually fighting tears.  Yes, I know.  An overly emotional moment.  We all have them.  Move on.

Then, I found myself fighting anger:  who the hell trains these (buxom) twenty-somethings who work at Victoria's Secret? And why has the industry decided that it will only cater to the bell curve (pardon the pun) of bra sizes?  (I say "bell curve" because I fully realize that my sisters at the other end of the spectrum -- with very large breasts -- aren't served well by Victoria's Secret, either.)

Three of the six bras I was given to try on were immensely padded, giving the clear message that I am not good enough.  While there is a trend currently for all bras to be padded (just walk through a lingerie department if you don't believe me), many of the ones in my size had tags on them claiming to give me two extra cup sizes.

I didn't ask for that.  And the bras look ridiculous on.  It's like trying to wear a pillow across a flat chest.

I bought the two (plain -- one white, one black) that looked the best on my body and which were the most comfortable, regardless of whether they "enhance" me in any way.

When I got home, I went online.  Roughly 15% of the American population is my size.  To be perfectly frank, more women would be if there was not such an obesity epidemic in our society.  The average breast size among American women used to be 34B; now it is 36C -- attributable to obesity, the increasing presence of hormones in our environment, and the numbers of women seeking breast implants.  Reputedly, the percentage of women seeking breast implants rose an astounding 39% between 2000 and 2010.  (Of course, the more women think they "need" implants and seek them, the more the bras will be built for the "ideal" woman and not for the variety of us that actually exist out here.)

In any case, when more than 10% of the population is similar to me, it means there are MILLIONS of women with my size boobs (and rib cage).  There should be more than three choices of bras at Victoria's Secret that are for "us".

I asked if there were any of the "cute" ones in my size.  You know -- the striped ones, the polka dotted ones, the lacy ones, the ones with little bows, the ones that come with matching panties.

NONE.

There are HUNDREDS of bras in Victoria's Secret.  Any of the ones that might be described as "cute" or "sexy" are not available in my size.

NONE.

I went to another store to see if it had what I was looking for.

SECOND STORE

"I want a kinda sexy lacy bra in a size 36A."

Older (busty) lady with lapel pin which reads, "Certified fit specialist," looks at me, raises her eyebrows to her hairline and declares, "That is a tall order."

I sighed and gave up.

There are a million funny things about bodies.  Your tummy is fat.  Your thighs are too big.  Your eyebrows are too thin or too bushy.  Your ears are too big or they stick out.  You have an uneven skin tone.  You have acne.  Your teeth are yellow.  That hair on your upper lip is a little too noticeable.  Your breath is bad.  You are too tall or too short or too sound or too skinny.  Your hair is too curly or too straight or too wild.  That cowlick of yours is a bear to handle.  Your nose is too prominent.  Your eyes are too close together or too small.  You have weird toes.  You have fat feet.  Man, you have BIG feet!   Those varicose veins are ugly.  Your ass is WAY too big.  It really isn't attractive to have your crack show.

Some of this attention to our bodies might, arguably, be good:  we should take care of ourselves, exercise more, show some pride in appearance.  A certain degree of civilization demands that.

But when an entire fashion industry essentially shuts out  more than 10% of the (normal) population, it's time to make the personal public.

Lingerie manufacturers:  we are not all a "C" cup.  And the answer to that "problem" is not to tell us to get implants to fit your image of the ideal, or to wear hugely padded, uncomfortable, ugly bras.  We would like to, once in a while, have the same bra style options as our sisters have with their "ideal"-sized assets.

There's nothing wrong with us; there is something wrong with you.

How much is a boy's life worth?

Saw this article today from The Washington Post.  It's an old article -- from 2007 -- but a 12-year-old boy DIED because, essentially, his mother couldn't find a dentist that would take care of his toothache. See his family had lost their Medicaid and, well, even when they had Medicaid, dentists were not easy to find.

Dentists prefer not to take patients with Medicaid.  Even kids.  I'll summarize the article for you:  The boy's tooth got so infected that the infection spread to his brain and...he DIED.  The total cost of the medical care he DID receive (in the ER, in intensive care, in surgery) was over $250K.

Wonder how much a tooth extraction or a filling would have cost?

The article doesn't say, so I did a little sleuthing.  According to this website, a simple extraction should cost between $50-150; an impacted wisdom tooth can cost as much as $650.  Another website has similar data.  Yet another website also gives similar figures.

What about fillings?  According to this website, metal fillings run between $75-145.  Composite fillings (my dentist calls them "hollywoods") are more expensive:  between $150-200 per filling.  Another website on cosmetic dentistry has virtually identical figures; though another website's stats are slightly higher:   $110-200 per each amalgam fillings, versus $135-240 per composite ones. 

This family essentially lost their child for want of no more than $650.

Beyond shameful.