Bratz

I am terrified of having daughters.  Ever.

Just walking through the mall and engaging in simple observation gives me the heebie jeebies and makes me feel a little sick.  I can just see myself in a screaming match with a 13-year-old Mini Me, refusing to let her out of the house unless she washes off the caked-on makeup, changes out of the shorts that say "Famous" on the ass, puts a sweater over the skimpy tank that proudly states "Flirt", and returns my Victoria's Secret credit card from whence she stole it.

When I was 13, I was ugly.  There is just no other word for it.  I was awkward both physically and socially, I never cared about my appearance, and didn't give a damn about my clothes.  My socially-conscientious mother wouldn't let us by clothing from Gap, Old Navy, or Nike (sweatshops, people...), which was pretty much the kiss of death for a teenager in the 90s.  I inherited some horrible vampire canines, which were yanked into position by a series of braces.  I was shy and inarticulate and friends with a bunch of girls a year behind me in school.  I didn't have a very good high school experience...

And needless to say, I don't want my daughters' teenaged lives to be miserable.  I just don't want them to be whorish.  There has GOT to be a happy medium.  I've just got to find it.  And if I can't, they will just have to be social outcasts.

I know I won't escape it entirely, even without having girls.  But if my son ever comes home with a dolled-up, tramped-out little girlfriend, you can bet I will make their lives miserable, in the time-honored traditions of motherhood.