Tams n Tights

I’ve despised every second of hunting for a prom dress for my daughter. I mean, this is for a girl who owns no dresses and who refuses to wear them. But now … it’s all about proms for the Year 11s isn’t it? Can’t say I blame them, though. It’s been an utterly vile year for those sitting their GCSEs and I suppose they deserve a bit of a party.

Anyway, I’ve driven her mad throughout, by chunnering on about American traditions that are not indigenous to our Great Island, by stating how easily young people are influenced these days and how independently minded we all were back in the 80s (yeah, right – who remembers Kids from Fame and maroon leggings) but to give her her due, she’s kept her gob shut throughout the process, although doubtlessly, she was texting all her mates about what a crabby old cow I am.

And now – thank God – now, we’ve finally found her one:

HER: I hate being so small. Nearly all of them dragged all over the floor.

ME: Well this one looks lovely. Calf-length suits you. We just need to get some nice tights.

HER: Why?

ME: Well, you have to wear tights with a dress.

HER: Why?

ME: You just … Need nice tights with a posh dress.

HER: I hate tights.

ME: Well, some people wear erm…stockings. Or hold-ups.

HER: I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.

ME: They’re like tights. … without the er…gusset thing.

HER: You’ve lost me … I don’t know what you mean. Can’t I just wear ….my legs? With shoes on the end of them?

ME: Well, yes. It’s just that people kind of think….with a nice dress, that tights….

HER: By ‘people’ are we really meaning ‘male expectations of how a woman should look?’

ME: Well… Possibly. Yes.

HER: Because we don’t do that Mum. Do we?

ME: No. You’re right. So..just wear…your legs.

HER: Good.

(Son, 13 wanders into the shop)

SON: Look what I just bought to wear to school!

ME: Ha! A Tam o Shanter! You look … cute.

HER: You cannot wear that in public!

SON: Why? I like it.

HER: You just….can’t.

ME: Why?

HER: Just don’t – okay?

SON: I’ll wear what I want.

ME: Yes, he can wear what he likes. Can we go home now? I don’t want to go in a clothes shop again for another two years. Please.

HER: Well, if he gets his head kicked in for not conforming to dress codes, it’ll be your fault.