lil hos

This weekend, while other people were clogging the arteries of grocery stores buying food for Thanksgiving, I was hitting other stores buying gifts for Christmas. I do most of my shopping online because I don’t like doing it in person, but there are some things I like to buy in real time. Like clothes for my niece and nephew. I’ve got to see how shit looks together, and that’s best accomplished by holding things up to one another.

I’ve had this battle every time I’ve gone clothes shopping for Rowan and Molly, at least at Target. There are great options for boys. Different colors, cool designs, etc. But for girls, it’s like we’re bringing up a generation of hoochies just waiting for their fake tits and fake tans. All (and I almost literally mean ALL) baby girl clothes have lace and sparkles and shit. I had to look for AN HOUR to find three shirts for Molly that didn’t look like pole-dancer-in-training material.

Of course, I could get Molly clothes from the boys’ section. She could have her pick of dinosaurs, motorcycles, super heroes, tools, dogs and more, with nary a ruffle, feather or shiny bit to be seen. But Molly is pretty girly (as was I when I was little – obviously some of us grow out of it and never return), so it doesn’t feel right. It’s not that I don’t want to get her girly stuff. It’s pretty fun to buy (hence, the tutu I got her for her 2nd birthday). I just want them to turn down the volume on the whorish stuff, at least for the under-10 set.

Molly in her tutu – sweet, sassy and tough as nails

As for Rowan, I’m most excited by this purchase:

okay, you’re thinking “Darth Vader tee shirt, big whoop,” and I feel you but look at the mother loving back of the thing…
…it’s got a fucking CAPE attached to it, son

I realize that young Rowan probably has no clue who Darth Vader is, but I’m hoping he’ll dig on the fact that it has a freaking cape attached to it. If it weren’t socially frowned upon, I might consider wearing shirts with capes. Because sometimes you just want to fly.

And because sparkles and rhinestones weigh you down.

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4 responses to “lil hos”

  1. I have two daughters, 18 and 16. Neither dresses like a prostitot, nor do they stink of vanilla or cotton candy. I’m proud of my girls, and I love your blog!

  2. Yeah. As a one with more than a little knowledge of pole dancers that really is how it starts. That and not making the cheerleader squad, only to compensate for it later, in sad ways. And things daddy did. But at least the boys get to wear capes.

    That came out a little bleak. But as a one with unwanted knowledge your story tells the tale, indeed. We are only barely removed from our most primitive state, it would seem, and removing in sad directions. It is a fucking shame, really.

    Be that as it may, I know those to be the cherubs of one Tohner Jackson and I know them to be in good hands. Also am I knowing a girl who could do amazing things on the dancing pole and invested in Walmart certificates instead of bad boyfriends and drugs and today she is a rowdy middle aged saloon keeper and living proof that there is hope for our kind and that sometimes it all works out, no matter how bleak, sparkled or sequined the prospect.

    Disclaimer: I am referring to a saloon keeper in Florida of my personal acquaintance and not the keeper of this here SALON, who as far as I am aware was never a pole dancer. But then again, with a name like Crystal Jackson…


    • Those kids are in great hands, for sure. And I know that clothes don’t make the person. It was just a bit overwhelming today, to the point that you begin to feel like it’s intentional. Because someone designed those clothes, and a whole committee of people greenlighted their production (probably by little kids in China), and another committee of people placed the order to carry that shit in their stores. Little girls shouldn’t have to choose between dressing like a skank or a truck driver.

      Nope, no pole in my background, and I can’t dance for shit. But I did tend bar for a decade.

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