There was the white sweatshirt with neon-colored, glow-in-the-dark hand prints all over it. There were the jam shorts. The coolots. The acid wash jeans. That one white jean shorts overall piece with polka dots that really made my collection complete. (Rocked that one the first day of school.) All of it added up to hours of me in a dressing room and mountains of the latest department store styles.
I have very fond memories of those sprees with my dad from when I was a pre-teen. Wild fashion sense aside, of course. It was cool that he would let me pick out what I wanted – giving me the chance to feel independent and content with my choices.
This was the first year that Nia really wanted to contribute like that. She’s always been an easy shopper. I could hold something up, ask her if she liked it, and more times than not, she would. Done. This year though, she told me the stores she wanted to shop at (Justice, Crazy 8’s and Target) and walked in knowing the style she wanted.
We had so much fun. She seemed so confident about what she wanted, especially the zebra print belt and shiny heeled sneakers. We giggled in the dressing room when she tried on jeans and they were gigantic on her. She didn’t even have to unbutton them to get them on and off. Two Beans could fit in there. Each time she would grab one of my size 10 selections (just in case, you know?) that made her disappear, she would tell me, “See? I told you I was an 8.”
She is so excited to wear all of her new clothes and I didn’t have the heart to make her wait until school to wear her heeled sneaks. (I also wanted to make sure she could walk in them and they didn’t hurt her feet.) She wore them around the house as soon as we got home and then to the grocery store the next day. She wants others to adore them as much as she does, expressing disappointment as we left the store, “Nobody said anything about my shoes.”
I love that you love them, Bean. I have a feeling they are only a glimpse of what’s ahead and hope shopping together is something we always enjoy.
Are You Zhazha? 
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