Since when...?!

With spring coming on in full, and the sun being a little more generous, people are starting to shed their thick winter jackets and boots for booty shorts(or short-shorts, for the older generation) and flip-flops. Something in particular stands out in my mind when I think of this change in style. Sitting in the food court of a local Target store, within view of the main entrance, a friend and I were both a bit shocked to see a girl walk in wearing a tanktop, booty shorts, and flip flops. It had to have been at least 40°F outside that day. Thinking out loud, I said to my friend, "Is she crazy?" Oh, fashion, and the things some girls will do for it.
 
But my problem isn't with crazy girls wearing booty shorts in much too cold weather for the sake of fashion. It's the things that younger girls are being allowed, and occasionally made, to do to be 'fashionable'. I should explain, before I get caught up in the heat of my rant, where I come from. I was raised in the mid to late 1990's. While I was growing up, I seldom remember ever wearing anything less than a teeshirt and shorts or sweatpants, and sneakers. As I grew into my awkward teen years, I started to wear lower cut blouses and started favoring long jeans over anything else.
 
Compare that to what is today's style for children ages 4-14. Tanktops, halter tops, short skirts, and shorter shorts.
 

 
Does something seem wrong to you? Does this make you the least bit uncomfortable to look at? I would think that most parents wouldn't want their sixteen or eighteen year old wearing this top, much less their seven or fourteen year old. This is NOT 'cute'. This is 'sexy'. The minute you let a young girl, even a seven year old, put on a top like this, you have begun to sexualize her.
 
And yet, society still can't figure out why there are so many pregnant 15-18 year olds?
 
Sexualizing a child is pretty darn close to child porn, in my eyes. The fact that parents dress their kids up like this screams to me that that child is going to have problems when she starts developing during puberty. Problems like unwanted attention. Such a young girl can wear shorts and a tee, it won't kill her, and in most cases, it's a lot 'cuter'. People will subconsciously appreciate your choice to dress them modestly, and appropriately for their age. I say this because children don't really get much choice in what they wear until their reach their tween years, around 10-12, so it's assumed that the parents are dressing their kids this way, and that the child isn't choosing to dress themselves so.
 
If your child is choosing these types of clothing, you should really explain modesty to them, that this kind of dress and the associated behavior is inappropriate and unnacceptable. You'll probably save yourself some of the the drama down the road when she grows up and wants to wear racier clothing that shows more skin-and more cleavage, if she's developing breasts. Uh oh! Now what you've taught your child was 'cute' and even acceptable is no longer so? Yep, take some advice and save yourself the grey hair.
 
I haven't mentioned the swimwear just yet, either. This is the one article of clothing that bothers me most, makes my skin crawl when I think of my child ever wearing it. it sickens me to think parents would let their young, innocent, undeveloped girls ages four to eight wear bikinis. Young girls have no business wearing bikinis or halter tops to the pool. NONE.
 

 
The only differences I see is that the young girl is undeveloped (no hips or breasts) and her facial expression isn't anything close to the expression of the woman. The fact that the little girl's pose is almost an exact mirror of the adult woman's is a little disturbing.
 
I remember wearing a tee over the hand-me-down bikini set I was given by my older sister-when I was thirteen. I shake my head every time I pass the junior girls clothing section in Walmart of Target. Half of everything there, bathing suits or not, I wouldn't even consider wearing, even at eighteen, much less letting my child wear any of it. She doesn't need to be viewed sexually at four, or eight, or even sixteen. I've talked with my boyfriend at the challenges we're probably going to face when we finally decide get married and have kids. On the list, just under teaching our kids the value of not making the mistakes others have made, is teaching our girls to dress modestly and to protect their sexual innocence until they're old enough to understand sexuality and society, and to know that there are very bad people out there, people who would do disgusting, repulsive things to a girl wearing the wrong thing.
 
I'm not saying that if you dress your kids in booty shorts and a halter top at five that they're going to be molested, or that by dressing them like this they're going to grow up to be whores in their teen years. I'm saying that you should realize that there are perverted people out there that don't care how 'cute' she is. She's sexy to them in the same way an adult wearing the same thing is. Doesn't that disgust you? An adult man finding your young girl, barely past her toddler years, sexy? I would be sick, thinking about that, and I am. On the flip side, I'm not saying dress your kids neck to toes either. They can show skin. just stick to one simple rule: If YOU wouldn't wear it to a semi-formal dinner with family, DON'T let them wear it.
 
Remember, also, that the examples I've presented are the most extreme form of sexualization of a young child. There are outfits that are much less racy, and yet not totally modest, that are at least somewhat acceptable, depending on the setting and the child's current age and level of progress through puberty. My purpose in this rant is to point out the scary changes in girl's styles. Boys don't have such a hard time being modest, really, other than they have a problem wearing a darn belt. I can only hope that parents will start making better choice as time goes on, and as, inevitably, style spirals into absolute chaos in which young girls are the victims. Hopefully, there will be choices made out there that help our nation's young girls grow up to be computer scientists and doctors, instead of floundering in their teen years and getting pregnant or dropping out. Hopefully.
 

Not Even Death

A slight breeze whipped up the leaves from where they had fallen and scattered them across the lawn on the other side of the path from the bench where Tansy sat. Her hands were in her lap and her mind almost silent, all but for that light breeze. She registered the rising gusts in the back of her mind as she stared into the distance. This was where she came to think, to sit and be, but not to care. It was a lonely, desolate little park, abandoned and all but forgotten by the people in the surrounding neighborhoods. The grass and trees were overgrown and the path was crumbling, with dandelions dotting the dirt-filled cracks. It was perfect and beautiful. It was her sanctuary.
The winds lifted again, rushing through the branches of the taller oaks and plucking the last of the fall leaves from their branches. Tansy was deep in thought when she heard a voice, ever so softly, call her name.
"Tansy..." it whispered into her ear.
Suddenly, she was back in the 'real world', her mind a thoughts frenzied as she tried to figure out who might have followed her here and how they knew her by name.
"Hello?" she called out, looking around as she stood from the bench. The wind lifted again, and with it, the voice.
"Taaaansy..."
Now she was starting to become frightened. Looking around, she called out again, a slight, unamused smirk on her face.
"Rod, if this is one of your little tricks, I'm not falling for it."
For a moment, there was silence. Not even the wind made a noise. Suddenly, someone gripped her left shoulder, pulling her around as if to face them. Tansy nearly lost her balance, catching herself on the bench and letting out a small shriek of surprise. Nobody was there. Another something grabbed her side, pushing her.
The wind lifted suddenly and eerily, whistling through the trees and calling loudly, "Taaaaansy! TAAANSY!"
Tansy could feel her heart racing, beating against her rib cage like a badly frightened animal in a box.
"Rod! This isn't funny anymore!" Tansy called, looking around frantically for the trickster culprit she knew she would not find. She was completely alone in the old park. The wind whipped again, stirring the leaves, chilling her as it bit through her light fall jacket. Or was it the wind? she though. She could feel two hands on her now, and arms, sliding around her sides.
"Oh, Tansy," the wind whispered against her exposed neck, "I miss you so much."
Tansy screamed in terror, flailing and trying to bat away the arms she knew were not there. Her waving hands touched nothing but crisp fall air. backing away from the bench, she bumped into a solid mass, not daring to turn around or move until she felt an icy cold finger brush her hair back over her ear.
"Tansy, why are you afraid of me?" the voice asked, closer than ever to her ear, "Tansy, don't you remember me at all?"
Without realizing it, Tansy had started to tremble in fear, having dropped her purse at her feet. Her mind was racing and at the same time, mired and turning slowly within itself. As the cold fingertip played with her hair, stroking and caressing it, Tansy tried desperately to recall who-or what-was speaking to her. Slowly, gently, the arms of the creature slid back around her waist. This time, though, Tansy did not fight back. She felt palms, then the insides of wrists, elbows, and arms. At last, she felt a solid and icy chest, pressed against her so firmly that she could feel the chilling of whatever was holding her through her jacket, as if she wore no jacket at all. She felt something solid hit her in the back, just to the left of her spin, between her shoulder blades. She passed it off as just a bit of soreness from beign touched by the cold.
"Oh Tansy," the voice lamented, softening now, "You can't have forgotten me."
All at once, she realized what it was, or rather, who.
"M-Michael." she gasped.
"You do remember, then?" he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder and tightening his arms around her briefly.
"Yes... I do. Michael, you're... you can't be. You're dead." she stammered.
The ghost chuckled softly. "Tansy, You don't believe in ghosts."
Tansy, closed her eyes, willing herself to resolve that, no, she did not believe in ghosts. Perhaps that would send him away. But he did not go, and slowly, he began to feel less icy, as if blood was again rushing through his veins.
"Michael, you've been dead for ten years. I'm re-married. Why can't you rest and leave me at peace?"
Again, he gave a small laugh. "I am at rest, Tansy dearest, now that you've finally joined me."
Tansy's eyes popped open. She hadn't realized she'd shut them, and began to look around frantically. The world seemed to be a veil, a ghostly mirage all around her. She shook her head, fighting the revulsion deep within, pushing away from her ghostly would-be lover.
"No." she gasped, "No, no, no..."
Looking over to the bench, now farther away, she saw her own body, crumpled on the ground before it, her purse nearby. Tansy ran towards herself, greatly confused until she saw the spreading pool of blood, her blood, that she was laying in. Kneeling down beside herself, she realized she couldn't feel the wind.
"No." Tansy whispered, reaching to touch the bullet hole through her chest. It was should blade height, and a little to the right side of her chest when she gazed at herself. As she watched, the living Tansy took her last, gurgling breath and passed away. As she did, the veil around her became even more transparent. Tears rimmed her eyes as she realized that she was dead.
Although she could barely see the 'real world' now, Tansy could make out a gang territory fight not far away. She must have been hit by a stray bullet, and they knew, for all the men were scattering quickly. Within minutes, as Tansy stood watch patiently, police and paramedics arrived on scene. She would never forget the despair on the first paramedic's face when he saw her body, laying in a pool of her own blood, pale and breathless. Dead.
Finally, her tears welled up, stinging her eyes as they rolled over and down her cheeks. Tansy turned, Michael opening his arms and placing them around her, hugging her tightly and resting his chin on her head. She was both mourning her own death, and suddenly overjoyed at being returned to her first love, her true love. But something felt strange about her, about the park.
It was if she was tethered to this park, the place where her first husband had been mugged and murdered brutally, back when the park was still a popular place to seek refuge. After his murder, only she returned to the park. None of the local residents would go near the place, for fear of being a victim of the same crime.

After death, she would wander the park still, hand in hand with him.

Born of Fire, Baptized by Rain

Vanessa lifted the brim of her hat to wipe away the sweat beneath it, looking up to the storm starting to form above her. As she let her hat settle back down on her head, she reached down and gave her tired mare a gentle rub on her sweaty neck.
"Looks like it's going to rain, Phoenix. Let's go."
A nudge of the heels, a cheek click, and they were off again at a slow gallop. Vanessa's mind, though, wasn't in the saddle that evening. It was far off, over the next hill, following her next hit, Brent Sinclaire. Wanted for robbery and murder in two states, he was the top of her list, even though those weren't the reasons she was after him. She had a personal score to settle with him. Without realizing it, her jaw tightened and she squinted, the anger burning deep inside of her bubbling back up to the surface again. Her mind took another skip, from the distance ahead of her to the memories she was trying so hard to put behind her.

~

A smile lit across Vanessa's face as she looked out the cabin window to her husband Jasper, hitching up their mule Benjamin to plow the garden in their small yard. Mary tugged her skirt, asking her a question she didn't quite hear.
"Mama, are we making butter after we milk the cows?" the little girl asked, hope in her eyes.
"Yes, Mary, be patient. You're to stay here and help your father take care of baby Jacob, alright?"
Mary nodded and took off, laughing in high-pitched glee. Vanessa smiled when Mary glanced back to her, hovering over the cradle of her little brother. Reminding her to be quiet and not wake the week-old baby boy, Vanessa put one finger over her lips. As Vanessa let her arm down, watching how Mary lovingly kissed her little brother's forehead, she thought to herself how blessed she'd been.

~

The anger was boiling now, bubbling and frothing. Her hands were so tight around the reins that Phoenix was starting to toss her head and grunt, pulling at the bit. Silently apologizing, she let her have some slack in the reins, looking around briefly. Some time during her mental skip, the rain had begun to pour, soaking Phoenix's hide and cooling the back of her neck. With a sigh, she slid back into her reverie.

~

The wild strawberries were wonderful, red and sweet this time of summer. Wading through the meadow, Vanessa took a deep breath of fresh mountain air and looked around. There were deer in the meadow, who lifted their gaze as they heard her moving through the tall grass. Everything was perfect and beautiful. When she reached the strawberry patch, she knelt down, opening her basket and starting to pick the plump, juicy berries.
Something happened then, something she would never understand. She heard thunder, but it wasn't thunder. It was the beat of many hooves, the hooves of a gang of bandits she'd never heard of until that day. Her instincts were screaming that something was wrong back at the cabin. Vanessa jumped up, and turned to look into the distance, just over a small ridge where the cabin would be. Curls of smoke were beginning to rise above the crest of the ridge. She could her the cries of her children. Gun shots.
Forgetting the strawberries, she lifted her skirts and took of full tilt across the meadow, the deer already having bolted from the gun shots. Tears were streaming down her cheeks by the time she reached the top of the small hill, panting for breath. The cabin was engulfed in hellish flames, the smoke rising into the sky like a black snake above them. She felt her knees hit the ground as she cried out, seeing the two bodies, on in the doorway and another in the field.
A thread of hope took hold in her heart as she heard her baby's pathetic cries from with the cabin. Vanessa took off running again, but before she could reach the cabin, the solid main beam of the small house collapsed. The crying stopped. It was Mary in the doorway, whose body Vanessa dragged to the field, next to her husband Jasper. Benjamin was nowhere to be found, but one of the bandits' horses had been left behind. A pregnant mare, due to give birth within days, obviously worth something to them, but unable to travel quickly enough to keep up.

~

Lightning cracked overhead, the trail beginning to look like a small creek of mud under Phoenix's tired hooves. She'd slowed down some time ago, whether from her own tired protest or Vanessa's cues, she didn't know. She was so hot that the rain was coming off of her as steam, wafting the scent of salty sweat and dusty leather up to Vanessa's nostrils. Phoenix was a brave and sturdy horse. Vanessa had never seen her trip or fall, even on the steepest trails and rockiest river crossings. She could out run, out jump, and out smart any other horse or cow west of the big muddy, that much she was sure of. She knew, because she knew the mare's mother, that one castaway mare, heavy with foal...

~

Vanessa waited up at her destroyed cabin for four more days. She buried the bodies of her infant son, young daughter, and husband. Searching through the ashes of her home, she found what the bandits had come for. It was widely known that she had been a lady of fortune, one to inherit a large chunk of money from her family. The trunk she'd kept it in had't turned up in her search. While she was digging through the remains of her belongings, she heard the mare squeal and grunt in pain from the small fenced pasture beside the field.
When she arrived, the mare was full in labor, kicking and thrashing her tail. Vanessa cooed to the mare, watching her carefully. She'd been raised with horses, and she could tell that this mare was having a difficult time with the large foal. Finally, the big mare gave birth to a gorgeous grey filly with a blanket of spots on her little rear end. She had long spindly legs and good hooves.
"One day, you're going to make a good ranch horse. I think... I'll call you Phoenix. And your momma, we'll call her Hope."
Hope and Phoenix became Vanessa's life for the next month, until Phoenix was big enough to follow Vanessa and Hope on their ride down into the valley east of the cabin. Vanessa was ready for revenge on the group who had murdered her family and destroyed her home.