The Dictator: My Pink Princess

Fancy Dictator, pretty in pink.  Plans for world domination
begin with the wardrobe.

Before the Dictator was born, I decided that--as I loathed the color pink--we would paint her bedroom in butter yellow and grass green and decorate with a crisp, primary colored farm theme.  Most of her baby clothes, though decidedly feminine, were blue, green and yellow.  She got called an adorable boy by little old ladies on any number of occasions (despite the fact that she was so obviously clad in a dress).  And I was okay with that.  I don't love pink, and I certainly didn't want to impose that nauseating color on my precious offspring.  If she had to be mistaken for a baby of the opposite gender, then so be it.  She would be too young to remember anyway.

See?  I think she looks quite fetching in brown, don't you?

Little did we realize that our Dictator has an alarmingly sharp memory, or that she was taking mental notes in that coffee shop as she sucked violently on her pacifier and sought revenge on the "nice" little old lady who dared to mistake her for something so hideous as a boy.

I don't know that she'll ever get that revenge, but she has put into place a diabolically simple corrective to all the gender-confusing lifestyle choices we mistakenly made for her so long ago.

The Dictator's Plan For Reclaiming Her Feminine Identity

Phase One:  DRESS LIKE THE GIRLY GIRLS

Phase One has been active for about a year or so.  About a month into kindergarten, the Dictator announced that "wide at the ankle" jeans were verboten; only "thin bottom" jeans would do.  While the vast majority of kindergarten girls at the Dictator's school were happy to sport jeans of any make and model (I don't think kids become fashion snobs until at least second grade, right?), it turns out that one crucial kindergarten fashionista, Pretty Headband Girl, exerted especial influence over the Dictator's choice in legwear  As the Dictator's chief rival for the affections of Little Blond-Haired Boy, Pretty Headband Girl's pants mattered; and Pretty Headband Girl's pants were skinny.  And so the Dictator took the necessary steps to get her man, hiding each and every pair of offending "wide at the ankle" pants she owned.

PHASE TWO: REFUSE ALL PANTS (or, OUTDO THE GIRLY GIRLS)

But this was only a gateway pants decision.  Soon, the Dictator found it necessary to up the ante.  And something inside of her, some vague, gnawing past hurt pointed her in the direction of her next man-trapping move.  If she was to snare the heart of Little Blond-Haired Boy, it would prove necessary to establish that she was, without ambiguity, a girl in the girliest sense.  To prove this to herself, Pretty Headband Girl, Little Blond-Haired Boy, the Disney Princesses, Fancy Nancy, and the world, the Dictator took the extreme measure of shifting to a Skirts Only Wardrobe.  Tights and leggings had to be procured.  Second-hand stores were scoured for cast-off fluff of an affordable nature.  Pants were handed down to an unwitting Anarchist.  And a girly girl (er...girly Dictator?) was born. 

Did I mention that pajamas must also abide by the no-pants,
all-pink Dictator wardrobe guidelines? 

PHASE THREE: GO PINK OR GO HOME

It took a while for me to adjust to the overtly girly wardrobe choices of my eldest spawn.  I had to put aside my dreams for preppy, sleek tweed pants  and sweaters and let my little Dictator make her own decisions...even if they involved sequins, fluff, and nothing but skirts.  And I had made my peace with that. 

But then something terrible happened.  Last week I took the Dictator and the Anarchist back to school shopping.  Nothing elaborate, we just needed some shirts, leggings and tennis shoes.  I walked into the store, enamored with the rainbow of jewel-toned tees in brilliant turquoise, ruby red, amethyst and emerald.  I suggested fluffy shirt after fluffy shirt in pumpkin orange, indigo, chocolate and slate.  My suggestions were met with looks of disgust and a strange growling noise. 

"What's wrong with this?" I asked, naively, "It's covered with sequins, strewn with tulle flowers, has the word 'princess' on it in glitter, and smells like roses!" 

 "No. No. No," the Dictator said, rolling her eyes in disgust and waving the unacceptable apparel away with an irritable flick of the wrist.  "I only wear pink!" 

And despite my best efforts, we walked away from the mall with six brand new shirts in varying shades of pink, pink tennis shoes, pink leggings, pink tights and a pink headband.  We also have a brand new pink leotard for dance class, along with pink tights and new pink ballet shoes (thank goodness her new class level switches her from white shoes to pink, or I don't know what she'd do). 

And so, my daughter the Dictator has achieved maximum girliness.  And I am doing my best to keep my cool.  I know it's wrong to say this, but I may very well get sick of looking at my daughter every day.  It's not her, she's a lovely girl...it's the pink.  So much pink.  I suppose it's my own fault, really.  If only I had seen fit to dress her in all the stereotypical pink "it's a girl" baby clothing, we probably wouldn't be having these problems right now.

What was I thinking, putting her in
blue like that?!  This is all my fault!

But you know what?  I'm not going to blame myself for this.  There are other scapegoats to be had (although not Pretty Headband Girl, because she's just doing what she needs to do to get herself a man).  So I blame you, Fancy Nancy, with your big words and your fluffy skirt-filled wardrobe.  And I blame you, Disney Princesses, with your palaces and jewel-encrusted dresses.  Also, I blame you little old lady from the coffee shop, for not knowing a floral embroidered dress when you see one.  Okay, that's completely insensitive.  You are old and probably find it hard to see.  So I don't blame you after all.  Sorry.  Sorry about that.  And finally, I blame whoever decided that pink was a girl color.  I don't know who you are, but if I ever find you, I may release the Fat Assassin on your fleshy calves.  You'll totally deserve it.

Thanks, Disney Princesses.  Thanks a lot.