I feel like so many of my parenting decisions are based on How I Want To Parent Differently Than My Parents Did.
I'm sitting in a salon right now, getting my hair colored. I'm looking at a fashion magazine. This is my thought process:
Fashion is ridiculous. I wonder - who wears this? I imagine authoring a Tumblr blog making fun of fashiony people wearing extremely stylish clothing in Trader Joe's or on a run to the city dump. Then I realize that's what most spreads are like anyway.
Then - I imagine that one of my children might one day be incredibly, instantly inspired by fashion and be compelled to make clothes or become a stylist or makeup artist.
I get sidetracked wondering just what it will be - that thing they see that resonates on all cellular levels, that thing that sings in their soul. Like when people discover punk rock or skateboarding or whatever. (For me it was heavy metal and degenerate teenage things, and I do remember the exact moment it hit me; I was 10.)
But the thing that sticks with me the most about looking at this fashion magazine, the thing I cannot deny or let slide, is that I Will Not let things like this into my house for fear my kids will see it and have warped thoughts about their bodies. Because I was raised on Cosmopolitan.
