“Why are you dressed like that?”
A question that very often precedes an exaggerated rolling of eyes, and a flippant “please..it’s fashion!”. Ever since body hugging tank tops, low cut tops, short skirts and sheer material decided to make my closet their home, I failed to get the approval of one man….my dad.
Growing up, my father was very protective of me. At times I found his over-protectiveness suffocating but as I grew older especially now when I travel around the big city alone, I realize I miss having a strong hand to hold on to. I know now that it must have been hard for him. To see the little girl dolled up in dresses with bow sashes and Mary Janes the size of his palm doing playful little pirouettes grow up into a young girl pirouetting in little black dresses and stilettos.
They say that in order to measure a man’s undying love, the ultimate test begins with an S and ends with a G. S-H-O-P-P-I-N-G. Whilst most men go weak at the knees at the mere whisper of the S word, one of the memories I have of my father is that of him taking me shopping for a new pair of jeans. It was the first I ever picked out on my own. And I remember my father waiting patiently for me whilst I tried on pair after pair after pair. You see, at 15, you just had to get the perfect pair of jeans and although time trickled away, my father’s patience never wavered. As I type this, I look up, and the pair of blue jeans hanging behind the door catches my eye, the one that still fits after all these years, is the greatest evidence of my father’s patience and dedication.
A memory nags at the back of my mind. It is one of him passing me a birthday present and if I had not been so eager to find out if my wish had been gift wrapped with a big bow on top, his words, “Don’t grow up too fast alright?” would have sunk in. Now, even as I approach one of those major milestones in my life, I know a part of me will always remain as …. daddy’s little girl.
Happy Father's Day Daddy !