If you're 14, female and starting high school, your outfit for the first day is of primary importance.
In fact, some teenagers I know **coughcoughRoo-girlcoughcough** spend DAYS planning just the right thing.
So imagine the planning and rearranging and closet-diving that must come from having TWO first days of school.
Yes, two. Roo-girl's school is on a sort of block schedule where they have only three of their six classes on any given day. The periods are therefore longer, which is supposedly conducive to getting more done. Even-numbered periods one day; odd-numbered periods the next.
Voila. Two first days of school -- one even, one odd. Ergo, two outfits needed.
Witness happy girl in outfit No. 1 (odd):
And -- uh -- girl in outfit No. 2 (even):
Please note that outfit No. 2 came complete with sullen looks, huffing, stomping of feet and door slamming.
What you CAN'T see in that photo is ... um ... the back of the shirt.
This is NOT what the shirt looked like, but it IS representative of how much bra showed when she turned around.
Only her bra was shocking pink.
In MY day (back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and we had to walk 10 miles to school in the snow -- uphill BOTH WAYS!), a bra strap peeking out onto your shoulder from your sleeveless top was a fashion faux pas that sent us running to the bathroom hide in abject humiliation.
Today, in the era of innerwear as outerwear, a peekaboo bra strap is the LEAST of the offending fashion statements.
Alas, I wasn't planning to write a diatribe about slutwear for children. In fact, when I started writing this post, I had planned a perky treatise on my daughter's amusing idea that she actually HAD two first days of school.
But apparently, the Clothing Wars of 2008-09 have begun.
I told her I objected to the bra exposure. She countered with a white bra instead.
I repeated my objection to the bra exposure. She countered by pulling the shirt UP in back, hiding the bra hooks but resulting in pulling the shirt DOWN in front, exposing the -- ahem -- topward bulge of her developing teenly bosom.
I sent her in search of a cami to wear UNDER the shirt and solve the problem by covering it up.
She returned in high dudgeon.
Wearing a cami t-shirt.
Under the offending backless shirt.
In her defense, it did look kinda stupid. The real way to solve this dilemma would have been to change the outfit.
Instead, she humphed and phumphed around the house, slamming doors and books and whatever else was in her way.
And so it was that I left the house with a scowling, sullen teen in my passenger seat.
When she requested that I drop her off in front of the gym, I looked and her and laughed.
"Why?" I said. "So you can go into the bathroom and change?"
"MOM," she snarled. "That's SO retarded!"
I laughed again.
And got a car door slammed in my face for my trouble.
So I was not surprised when my BFF, who had heard the story already and was volunteering at the high school that morning, texted me several hours later with the following words:
"Saw her bra."
Yes, my lovely, sweet, adorable, 360-head-spinning, pea-soup-spewing 14-year-old child had removed the cami once she was out of my mean-mom clutches.
I hope her locker looked sexy in it.