The Girly Girl

Continuing in the vein of child-rearing (moms, I hope you were taking notes from the last blog. At minimum you will require diapers, a crib, a leash and a baby cage), there's more than just a potential  lack of maternal instinct to fear.  Of course I'd want a healthy baby, but barring any health issues, there is one other thing that scares the shit out of me: having a girly girl daughter.

Now, don't get me wrong.  There's nothing wrong with being a girly girl. . . if you like that sort of thing. I personally never saw the appeal.  As a little girl, I liked to read and play video games.  As an adult woman, I like to. . .  well, read and play video games.  The point is that I was never  interested in much of the typical girl stuff.  I had Barbies, but didn't really care for them.  I never had any desire to wear dresses.  I think I could count the articles of pink clothing I had on one hand.  I wouldn't call myself a tomboy (I sucked at sports/outdoor activities), but I was as far from girly as you can be without having a penis.

Nowadays, everyone knows that I like my makeup and that I can occasionally be found in clothing that is not a t-shirt , jeans and my Chucks, but not a whole  lot else has changed.  I am actually a goth turned card-carrying geek.  I like mmorpgs, comic book and horror movies and sword and sorcery fantasy novels.You want to know whether a superhero is DC or Marvel? I'm your girl. You wanna know what the "in" color is for the fall? I have no fucking clue. Go ask someone that cares.

Now put into the arms of this previously described woman a little girl that likes butterflies and the idea of being a cheerleader.  Yeah. . .

Again, not that there's anything wrong with any of these things.  There isn't.  But putting me in charge of this child would be like putting me in charge of teaching Sunday school (F.Y.I. it is apparently not acceptable to show The Exorcist to a Sunday school class.  What? It's religiously-themed). I just wouldn't know how to deal with it.  I mean, I suppose I would have to deal with it, but the thought of having to spend  time at the American Girl store makes me want to go burn it down before that issue even comes up.  I could Build-a-Bear all day, but a doll tea party would require a Valium or seven.

And, of course, my little girl would have to have a bright pink frou-frou bedroom with bows and ruffles and sparkly shit. You know, something that looks like Glinda the Good Witch exploded in it but without all the fun blood and gore?  Having this in my house, would be like having the haunted room from Poltergeist down the hall. I actually don't mind pink in moderation, but not of a hue that might cause an epileptic seizure.

Then there's the whole Barbie obsession to potentially deal with.  Barbie is like the Apple of dolls, crushing all competitors under her fuschia pumps and looking fabulous while doing it.   When I was little, I had a friend that LOVED Barbie.  She had Barbie everything.  I didn't get it.  I had Barbie dolls, too; but I just wasn't that into them, not to the point where I was begging my mom to buy all the accessory crap that goes along with her.  Barbie has her own universe, like the Marvel or DC universes only everything is pink and no one gets beat up. .  as far as we know.

Anyway, this is a fascination that could be sucking my wallet dry for years if I have a little girl that really gets into it.  Of course, the curse of Barbie only begins with the doll and her trappings.  There's also the videos. *shudder*

I'm already trying to think of ways to trick my baby daddy into watching this mess.  Men, you're usually very good sports about humoring your daughters and their girly crap.  But the fact that you will sit down and watch Barbie Princess Party or whatever the hell it is, does in no way mean that you want to watch Barbie Princess party.  For myself, sitting still for Barbie anything is going to require either a lobotomy or another person to pawn this duty off on.

If my little girl wants to watch  UFC  insert-number-here, I'm there. If she wants to watch Barbie Princess Party, then it's time to go to Grandma's  house.

Fortunately, when Barbie Princess Whatever leads to  my little girl wanting to be a princess for Halloween (which it will, no matter how much I beg her to be a zombie just once), I'll dress her up in a pretty pink dress with a nice tiara and take her out to go trick-or-treating.  Then, just before we hit the first house, I'll pop out my handy dandy bucket of pig's blood and BAM!  Instant Carrie.

Happy Halloween.