Thursday, 7 November 2013

Daring to defy social norms...dummies, nipple exposure and PINK

I feel I could rant for hours about the plethora of social norms I have been confronted with in my brief period as a parent. I am torn about which to mull over first...
1. We could take on the dreaded 'to dummy to not to dummy?' debate ( which I now see as complete nonsense..basically if your baby will take one, DO IT and make your life exponentially easier..and more peaceful)
2. The question of whether or not nipple exposure in public should be more embarrassing for me, or the 79yr old bloke stopping for coffee with his wife...it strikes me as strange that after all the years I have spent NOT exposing my breasts in public, I should now be so totally blasé about whapping them out at a moments notice.
3. the concept of the push present (which I suspect De Beers and other diamond sellers may be at the bottom of having already suckered us all in the diamond =love=engagement theory which they invented several decades ago)

Anyway tonight, having just spent a small fortune building little Ophelia's wardrobe for the next few months I'm going to start with my biggest bug bear. The great pink gender conundrum...

As most if you will know, I am not a truly girly girl...I don't really do make-up and I'm too lazy to manage a proper haircut. I have, however come to LOVE shoes and the odd mani-pedi...Yet I digress. My point is I do not wish to be forced to dress my daughter in pink in order that random cooing punters can correctly identify her gender.

Having been thorough the trauma of gender confusion myself (ie others were confused..NOT me) I do not wish my daughter to get off on the wrong note at the tender age of 8ish weeks.

My own experience was entirely my fault. In a moment of extraordinary  lunacy a made a hideous spur of the moment hairdressing decision, age 12, resulting in a  Celine Dion haircut when I was a boobless, brace-wearing adolescent. I spent months of self-loathing wearing short skirts and glittery eye goo to ensure I was not mistaken for a boy. ( Hence my hatred of hairdressers ever since and gaping holes in the family photo albums).

I do not want my daughter to be subconsciously scarred in the same way just because I find myself  more drawn to the blue spotty hoodie or safari prints than the pink frou-frou frills and flowers. Some pink and flowers are fine, preferably the more vibrant tones, but how are jungle animals more  masculine than feminine? Poor Ophelia has been 'guessed' as a boy way more times than a girl now, based largely on my choices of attire..hence the recent shopping spree. Is it bad that I have capitulated to considering a wardrobe rethink involving dresses and such- like...or should I revolt against the world of Alice bands and frills and let her be called a boy?

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