Snow Pants

All I wanted was snow pants for my daughter.  It was the only thing on my mind.  I didn't want cute booty shorts nor did I really want a cutoff tank top that proclaimed how cute it is to be dressed in pink.  I wanted fucking snow pants because it's negative fucking 10 and the kids would like to go fucking sledding.   I have entered the realm of girls clothing, 8 year old variety.  As you can probably tell, I'm a bit angry about the experience.

First off, I apologize to everyone for going shopping.  Clothes are not my strong suit.  Picking out "cute" things for my children are not where my strengths lie.  I have no idea what matches with what, what goes with what, plaid only with this, white only after labor day, no tennis shoes with a green dress.  I'll admit, I have no idea about fashion.  I have a reason though that I feel is more than enough though to explain why.  When I buy clothes, and this is rare, it is because I am looking at functionality.  If I have to dig a hole for a fence, I'm thinking that I probably need me some jeans.  Just some ordinary jeans.  Do they fit?  Check.  I buy them.  I wouldn't want to wear a sweater to dig a post hole for a fence, so I'm thinking I need a T-Shirt.  Check, I buy that.  Do they match, do they go together?  I have no idea because that is not what I'm thinking about.  I'm thinking about whether I should put in concrete to my post hole or go the easy route and just fill it up with dirt knowing that at some point it's going to lean and I'm going to have to redo it.  So I choose concrete and jeans.  Simple enough.

But in the world of women, children and apparently just about anyone else but me, this is a very stupid thing to do and I can't figure the fuck out why.  I get up in the morning, is it cold?  Yes, wear something warm.  Am I with a baby that will vomit on me?  Yup, wear something dark.  Is my daughter going to kick me in the junk at some point today while we play?  Guaranteed, let's wear the cup.  See, is it that hard?

Apparently it is if all you need is snow pants for an 8 year old.

First off you fashion fucktards, please stop selling next season's clothes before this season is done.  And if you can't help yourself, then please for the love of fuck make it closer to the actual season, say the end of March?  Outside we have 2 feet of snow.  That being the case, I do not think it is appropriate that I buy a bathing suit for my daughter.  She will probably get cold.

I am also convinced that those that determine when spring/summer clothes go on sale have never in their entire lives dressed a child. See, if I buy something for myself and plan to wear it in three months, no problem, it's probably going to fit.  I will look sexy, chicks will dig me.  I get that and accept that.  But my daughter?

I have no idea what size my daughter will be in three months.  She grows like a weed.  She has a different shoe size just about every three months.  Every day I'm throwing out clothes that she has outgrown, clothes that I know for a fact that she has only worn only a couple of times.  What I buy her today is not going to fit her in July.  So knock it off.  I need snow pants in the middle of February.
 And why do I need these snow pants?  Because the snow pants she had in December seem to have shrunk a bit and now her ankles stick out and the waist is to tight and for the ever loving fuck of fuck please just have snow pants when it's still winter.

Let me continue.

Like I have stated previously, I try to buy for functionality which is probably why my wife doesn't like me buying clothes much.  No worries but this was a special case.  My wife is not going to take the kids sledding.  Let's face it, she's delicate and doesn't do "cold" or rolling in the snow very well.  That is Dad's territory in our little family.  She does hot chocolate very well though.

But on occasion I do have to go shopping and I would like to buy something appropriate for my daughter to be active in.  Let me ask you, what is so fucking difficult about this?

First off, let's knock off putting words on the butts of 8 year olds.  She's an 8 year old.   She is not a butt billboard for a soda, she is not a place to put a catch phrase, and she sure as shit doesn't need to look "cute" when being athletic.  The athletic part is what will make her look cute, not the yoga pants that everyone appears to want my 8 year old daughter to wear.  Fuck off you pedophiles. 

And pink, I'm ok with pink for the most part, but come on, aren't we over doing it a little bit?  Not everything that a girl owns should be pink.  Pink gets dirty to quick, it's to hard to get stains out of and it doesn't hide blood very well.  Work with me a little bit.  My daughter plays soccer, I would like her to be able to play without wondering if she is a piece of gum that came with my baseball cards.

Moving on.

Shirts.  Are t-shirts really so fucking hard?  Do they all have to have some sort of heart on them?  Is the peace sign the realm of girls only?  Would I ever put my son in either of them?  No, I would not.  When my daughter is being active, I want her to be active.  When she is playing a sport, I want her to be aggressive.  Sure, I want her to be nice and play by the rules but I want her to kick some ass as well.  I don't want her giving out hugs and flowers when she is the goalie.  I want her to give the death stare to the other player coming to score on her.  There is a place for hearts and peace symbols but let's not make that place my daughters t-shirts or ass.

When Maria cut up those curtains to dress those snotty damn Von Trapp kids, that's what I was talking about.  She made them functional!  She said to the Captain, Listen dillhole, the kids had no play clothes, nothing that can get dirty.  So I made clothes out of a fucking curtain.  You need to be ok with that.  Boom, Maria is my new hero.  

I thought wind pants would be a good substitute for the snow pants, a good pair that is water proof that we can put several layers underneath.  I had to go to the boys aisle to find them.  And yes, they worked perfectly for what we needed as all the snow pants were removed, as well as all the gloves, hats, and anything else that one would need in cold weather that will still be here for some time.  But apparently girls are not allowed to wear wind pants, or athletic pants or anything else of the sort.  I must also apologize to the poor sales clerk that I said "you're fucking kidding me" when I asked him where the girls athletic pants were.  Not his fault, I understand that I may have just been at the end of my rope.  I didn't mean to make you shy away from me quickly.  I can only assume that by my dress of jeans and a tshirt that you inferred that I would have no problem punching you in the face.  I realize that it is not your fault, you are the poor dude that just happens to work there and not the fashionista that made the decision that my 8 year old would be much happier looking like she wanted to turn a few tricks on the playground.  However, if you can get me that persons name and address, we can make amends.

I came home a little upset, as you could imagine.  I railed to my wife who promptly just rolled her eyes.  She says she knows.  She says she deals with it every time she shops for our daughter.  She implied that I am late to the enraged party.  Then she went on to complete her "couples therapy" show.  I think she is trying to hint at something.  God Damn do I hate that show. 

Look, I know that I am late to the rage here but it really doesn't help me to have her not share in my rage in a more direct fashion.  Scream with me, yell with me!  Share my frustrations and do not give me the I told you so look!  I am a white middle aged male, people will listen to me!  The world is set up for my benefit!

Of course, I put that last part in there because I know that my wife will read this and get enraged that I said it, that it is indeed the case, that her gender has not been offered the same perks as me.  She knows that people constantly judge women on whether they stay home or work, that there is a thing called the "mommy wars" and that her motives are up for constant debate.  She also knows that for the most part, other guys think it's cool that I stay home with the kids and I get all kinds of undeserved credit just for going grocery shopping.    I will smile when she rages, I will roll my eyes, and I will go back to watching the X-files.  Nothing makes a person feel better than spreading the rage, even if you have to do it a little underhanded.  Toward the end of her rant, which should be epic, I will mention that there is a senate panel discussing birth control and that it has no women on it, only old white dudes.  

My work here is done. 

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