Mama A Says: Skank You, Skank You Very Much!

Oh.  My.  Words.

Ladies, this has absolutely, positively, GOT.  TO.  GO!

I'm talking about your daughters and what you let them out of the house wearing in public.  

Have you looked at your daughter lately?  The apple of your eye?  Your precious.  Your sweet, adorable girl? 

Yes, the one all dressed up like Prostitute Barbie at Target, Lowe's Foods, and even church!  The little girl with her dress up mid-thigh barely covering her rear end.  Yes, that strapless little number that is not appropriate for grown ladies, let alone 16 year old girls.  The one with enough make up caked on her face--if she sneezes her entire face may slide off and crumble on her lap.  The one with her hair teased and straightened.  The one smelling up to high heaven with something she purchased at Victoria's Secret.  

Do you want men looking at your daughter like a piece of meat?  Do you want them thinking those thoughts?  Do you want your daughter encouraging those teenaged male hormone machines with her provocative attire?  

And don't give me that crap about teen styles blah blah--there is always a way to be trendy and modest.  And no, just because she's got a killer body for about 4.6 years does not give her the right to flaunt it around for all to see.  


Or, as my grandmother puts it, "She looks like a hooker!"

When I see these girls flitting around town, my immediate thought (after wanting to find nun attire or a choir robe or a napkin to cover her up) is, "Where is her mother?!?!?!"

Now, I know that there are many girls out there who have lost their mothers for various reasons.  I know they may or may not have respectable women in their worlds who can care for them.  I am not talking to or referring to these ladies.  I want to wrap my arms around them, not judge them. 

No, I'm speaking of girls who clearly have a mom in their world.  I see them with their moms out and about.  I see them walking next to their mothers with their flesh hanging out for all to see.  

And I want to strangle their mothers. 

Do they not see their daughter?  Do they not see what she's wearing?  Do they not see what she's doing?  Or are they turning a blind eye because they are too afraid to say something about it?  Are they afraid of being a mama?  Are they too tired to care?  

Let me tell you something--you'd better care!  You'd better tell your daughter that she's precious and wonderful and too special for that outfit she's got on.  And yeah, she's going to get mad.  I get that.  But you're not there to be her friend, she's got a million friends.  You are her mother--you are there to train her up and lead her in the way she should go.  

Now, I realize that Mama A is not quite as seasoned in raising teens--but I've had my fair share of quasi-mothering some sweet and wonderful (and terrible and hormonal and sassy) middle and high school girls.  I don't know all the ends and outs of living with teens, but I do know how to tell them to change their attire.  I've had no problem telling them to pull it down, put 'em up, and wipe it off.  

And you know what, they will. 

When you've got that good balance of love, respect, and admiration--and add a good measure of accountability and responsibility, they can handle it.  Even if it embarrasses them, they can handle it.  

Don't be afraid to make her change her clothes.  Goodness me, if your tail walked into the party showing your tail, wouldn't you want us to tell you?  You would be mortified if we let you walk around all day with your unmentionables on display.  

Why is this ok for your daughters????  

Ladies, we have got to put a stop to this!  We need to stand up for each other--young and old--and be accountable.  We need to train our younger women up--we need to remind them that they are surrounded by ladies who care about their well-being.    

Life does not come with the black censor bars--but if you don't get your daughter's attire under control, I'm about to break out my construction paper and cut rectangles to have on hand at all times.  

Love and smooches, 
Mama A. 

Popular Posts