Girls v. Boys

This bothers me.

I received an ad in the mail the other day, and was a little disappointed with the back page. That page was for kid’s clothes, and at first glance I doubt most people would see anything wrong with it.

I did.

This is what I’ve had to contend with my entire life. I wanted to go outside and get dirty and play baseball but, since I was a girl, I was expected to be satisfied with skirts and Barbies and waiting to be rescued by somebody’s idea of Prince Charming. It wasn’t my parents so much as the Powers That Be. There were no Little Leagues for girls (or any boy’s ones that would accept us). We had a seventh and eighth grade basketball team for boys, but none for girls, and I wasn’t allowed to play on the boy’s team. I know. The 12-year-old me got up the nerve and asked the coach personally. And you might as well forget about organized football. That’s why they invented cheerleading.

Here’s another gag-me moment I had a couple of months ago: Princess Camp. No joke.

Because, really, what little girl wouldn’t want to be a princess? “This camp has everything little girls love…”

Not really, no.

I wanted to spend my money and time going to Pirates games, not farting around at the mall or playing dress-up. I felt (and feel) like that little girl in the toy store.

Thankfully I’m married to somebody who knows how to show a girl a good time, who buys me the kind of shoes (and boots) I really want (running and hiking) and gives me the remote during the game.

That’s what I’m talking about.