GirlhoodMature

*Note*: She (my mom) wasn't quite this bad, but she was bad enough for me to write this.

Girliee,

Go frolic within the endless field of flowers.

Dance and sway as they do,

Gracefully,

Lovely,

And with purpose.

Chin up,

Look me in the eyes,

Brush back your hair,

Wash your face,

And then give me a nice, toothy smile.

No, no, no, no, no!

Why have you gotten your clothes dirty?

You were playing in the mud with the boys?

Simply impossible.

And what are you doing?

Do you have to pee?

No? You’re dancing?

Where is the grace and charm,

The coordination and purpose in each move?

Stop looking at the ground,

I’m up here. My face is here.

And what happened to your hair?

It was braided so nicely,

I took the time to make each curl look wonderful,

So why are they undone?

It doesn’t even look nice like that,

Don’t say it does.

I don’t want to hear it.

Is that, is that…

Mud?!

Why is there mud on your face?

You really were playing with the boys, weren’t you?

Well, if you want to act like a boy,

I’ll sign you up for boy sports!

Maybe golf, or basketball, or better yet, football!

Well, why don’t you want to do that?

That is what BOYS do.

If you dislike such things,

Then keep your hair up,

Keep your clothes clean,

And learn to use proper etiquette.

Now, that’s my girl.

Wait!

I signed you up for ballet,

We will leave out in an hour.

Now remember, mommy loves you!
The End

0 comments about this story Feed