Bra Straps
Fourth grade rolls around and Tate is coming to the kitchen for breakfast before school with her bra straps showing, on a regular basis. My adult mind assumes she’s trying for ‘this look’, and too harshly, I remind her that I’m not okay with that.
This morning, obviously a bit hurt by my implied accusation, Tate goes to change into a shirt and bra that match better, in this way. She comes back with her straps showing, now, in a different way. I’m upset and reiterate the expectation, assuming she’s (though she’s not this type of kid) purposefully ignoring me.
It’s not until the third time she comes back to breakfast with the same issue that I pause. I take her to a mirror and show her what I see - how it looks to see bra straps with shirts on and what it means to choose one that won’t be seen.
Tate says, both relieved and annoyed, “Well, I never even look in the mirror, Mama, so I had no idea!”
Ahhhhhhhhaaaaa.
My unfair assumption that she was trying to be ‘sexy’, that the older girls had finally gotten to her, that she was going against me and thinking she looked great showing her straps - all makes me feel so badly, it hurts. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Off base. Projecting my own stories onto my girl.
I likely hurt her feelings, too.
Here she is, in all her innocence and confidence, in her own body, being her honest, pure being - so much so she hadn’t even thought to look in the mirror. A sign of youth and being truly embodied.
I see that - now.
Yet again, here I am. I need to toss my own history aside. Course-correct to be present with her, instead of judging her. Time to take a breath and awe at her honesty and flexibility. Trust her. What she knows and where she is.
Really, trust.
“Ohhhhhhh, wow, honey. I never even thought of that, of course. Yeah, mirrors aren't that important but every now and then, they can be quite helpful.” Sigh.
