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When my oldest child was a toddler, she had a flair for accessorizing. She would don goggles as if they were headbands, layer Mardi Gras beads around her neck, and sport old sweatbands on her wrists. As she grew, her creative choices evolved into wearing tutus over tights, capes made from scarves, and bandanas tied around her head like a pirate.
Then came her obsession with animal prints, often mixing leopard, tiger, and cheetah patterns together. She was like a walking safari—cheetah on top and tiger on the bottom. With her bandana, she resembled Axl Rose. She would carry around bags filled with her favorite toys, gently patting them as if waiting for the right moment to showcase her plastic tea cup or a half-deck of playing cards.
People admired her unique style and the confidence she exuded, and I did too. I wished for her to always embrace her individuality, wearing whatever made her feel good, even if it was a bit quirky. These days, she’s less quirky, but I’m overjoyed that my kid still doesn’t care about fashion or appearances.
Now a 5th grader, she’s taller than some parents of her friends and has navigated the tumultuous waters of puberty with surprising ease. Her body and moods may fluctuate, but at her core, she remains that toddler who wore riding boots with pajamas and butterfly wings. She dresses for herself and doesn’t worry about anyone else’s opinions.
My ex-partner and I have never indulged in back-to-school shopping sprees. We make sure they have fitting sneakers and a functioning backpack, and that’s about it. As they outgrow clothes, we replace them. Much of their wardrobe comes from thrift stores, and I take pride in their excitement over yard sale treasures. We’ve never bought special outfits for the first day of school; we simply ask that they wear something clean.
This year, as my oldest heads into middle school and I notice her friends putting more thought into their outfits and hairstyles, I found myself wondering if she would care about her ensemble for the first day back. The stained t-shirt from our local dentist and the slightly too-small shorts with a tiny hole confirmed she hadn’t spent a second pondering her look. She resembled someone ready to tackle yard work, not a school day.
“Is that what you’re wearing to school?” I asked.
She glanced down, “Yep. Just threw it on.”
“Are you sure you want to wear that shirt? Those shorts might need to be retired,” I suggested.
“Why? I like this shirt. My shorts are fine,” she replied.
I paused. She was right. Her outfit was perfectly fine.
In that moment, I realized I was imposing my own worries onto her, stemming from my past experiences as a self-conscious child who cared too much about what others thought. I used to feel embarrassed in off-brand clothing and would never have dared to wear a stained shirt or anything with a hole in it for fear of judgment.
Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the realization that I had raised a child who didn’t think that way. My daughter, who has more privileges than I did, is not pretentious. She doesn’t judge others based on their clothing or appearances. She understands that fashion reflects personality, not worth. I had to step back and allow her to embrace her own identity without my fears getting in the way. This is exactly what I want for her.
“You’re right,” I said. “Just so you know, there’s a small stain on your shirt. Is that okay with you?” I was trying to avoid any potential teasing, haunted by my past insecurities.
“Meh. I don’t care.”
“Cool. Just brush your hair,” I added.
Clearly annoyed, she replied, “I did!”
I took a second look. It seemed a little less messy than earlier. I smiled at my growing girl, who seemed so mature for her age, especially when I checked on her before bed each night. Even though she still clings to her childhood blankie, she takes up more space and seems wiser each passing day. She has grasped lessons that took me a lifetime to learn. My daughter, who still cherishes little treasures and embraces a DIY attitude, stands firm in her belief that “this works for me.” She is confident and has no reason to feel insecure—she knows this.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
“You,” I replied. “You look fantastic and ready for 5th grade. I’m so proud of you.”
My child is comfortable in her own skin and practical in her clothing choices. She’s uninterested in following fashion trends dictated by peers; instead, she stays true to her internal compass. I must quiet my own fears and support her just as I did when she wore mismatched animal prints. Sometimes her outfits might clash, featuring tropical prints or two different camouflages, but she insists they go together because they share a “theme.”
Keep being you, kid. Your outfits shine because they make you feel happy.
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Summary:
This article celebrates the author’s tween daughter, who embraces her individuality and is unconcerned about fashion norms. The author reflects on their own insecurities and recognizes the importance of allowing their child to express herself freely without societal pressures. The piece highlights the beauty of self-acceptance and the joy of raising a child who confidently follows her own style.
SEO Metadata:
My Tween, Fashion, Individuality, Self-Acceptance, Parenting, Confidence