I’ve been diligently avoiding most personal shopping for the last few months.  Sure, there are trips to the grocery store for some foodstuffs, but I’ve been trying to avoid the casual shopping trips that start with wondering if there’s anything in the clothing store I might add to my wardrobe.  I haven’t been entirely successful.  I find some pleasure in perusing the possibilities that the clearance racks at Ross or Marshalls hold.  Mostly I’ve perused.  A few times I’ve tried on.  Rarely have I bought.

The last few times I’ve been in a dressing room, there has been at least one little girl accompanying her mother.  Everytime, and I do mean each and every time, I’ve heard at least one little girl ask, “I look pretty, don’t I?”  It’s never, “This makes me look pretty, doesn’t it?”  It’s always, “I look pretty, don’t I?”  said in a definitive way.

After hearing this a few times from a few small voices, I’ve been wondering when the question changes.  When does the question become, “Does this look good on me?” or “I don’t look so fat in this, do I?” or “Are you sure this looks OK on me?”  Somewhere along the way we lose our vision.  We see the cellulite or the acne or the width of our hips.  We don’t necessarily believe that we’re pretty anymore.  We start to believe that it’s the clothes that make the difference not the wearer who enhances the clothes.

I wonder when it changes.

photo courtesy of Alishia Osborne