Growing up, I was not allowed to be "girly". When I said I wanted to be a ballerina, I found out that dancing is a sin, and therefore I could not be the beautiful lady in the pink tutu. The fact that I am the opposite of "graceful and willowy" was not an issue. My mother did not see me wearing make-up until I was in my twenties. And even then, I toned it way down in her presence. Frills, lace, bows, and other unnecessary accessories were frowned upon. Underwear was white cotton, or that horrid pastel nyon/polyester stuff. Bathtubs were never filled above two inches. Daily showers were a waste of water. Hair products would cause horrid illnesses. I had no plastic jewelry, no pretend lipstick, and certainly no pretty shoes. We did not buy fashion magazines, or nail polish, or perfume. Practical was the key word for everything.
I have a daughter now who is by nature not very girly. In fact, if it weren't for her friends, I don't think she'd know about princesses or fairies. Just so you know, this is NOT my choice. But slowly, over time, she is becoming more and more the little girl I wanted to be. I love the fact that her favourite colour is pink. I let her pretend to put on makeup with me every morning, until she starts commenting on my eyeshadow choices. She wears dresses or skirts every chance she gets, and the "spinnier" (you know, they flare out when you spin!) they are, the better. She has a collection of sparkly jewels, she adores body glitter even though I rarely let her wear it. Her new backpack for school is fushia, with Disney fairies on it. Not what I would have chosen, and certainly not what her father would like, but it makes her happy. And really, fairies on your backpack are not the worst thing.
As much as I love having a girly-girl around, I think we might have crossed a line somewhere. I let her have a bath with candles lit not long ago. Scented candles. All the other lights were out. She reclined like a true princess in the tub, and loved every second. And then, last week, she got to have a rose petal bath. The roses Hubby gave me for our anniversary were past their peak, so I decided to do something I've always wanted: a bath covered in rose petals. My mistake was in telling Girl Terror about it. Before you could say "Princess and the Pea" she was in the tub, slowly swirling red rose petals around her toes, asking for more candles.
I would be okay with this, I think, but..... she got to experience a rose petal bath before me! That seems so unfair! I mean, if she's the princess, shouldn't I be the queen? When did I become just a lady in waiting to her Royal Highness?!