Mom would dress me up in cute satiny or chiffon dresses on my birthday and for church.
I do remember loving the poofiness of them.
But what to do with those skirts?
She would dress me in other more practical wear for the farm…solid cotton dresses and even pants sometimes, but going to town or school, it had to be a dress.
I begged her to let me wear pants to school. Other girls’ moms let them wear them.
Then one day at the drug store, as I was looking thru the comic book rack, mom came up with a neighbor …who looked at me standing there shyly, with all my cute little crooked bangs, cute little town dress… and then her eyes went down to the great big scabs, scratches and bruises all the way up and down my legs.
You see, I was very much so, a tomboy, farm girl.
Inevitably I would be riding my bike full steam down our gravel road hill and not quite make the turn around the granary. Scrambling around the hay mow looking for kittens did not help any either.
Mom agreed that I could at least wear pants 'under' my dress after that. No more embarrassing lifting of eyebrows at my battle scars from others.
copyright 2012 Stepka