My mother's expectations

My mother apparently thinks I lack femininity.

Apparently, I don't dress like a girl or put nearly enough effort into my appearance to satisfy her expectations. I'm not going to lie - being a girl is a pain. Make-up, heels, the whole deal - it is a LOT of work to go through, and when I am getting like five hours of sleep and have twenty minutes to get dressed in the morning, effort falls to the wayside a little bit. That being said, I do try most days. Just not to my mother's standards. Here is an example of our differing ideas of classy make-up:

My idea of heavy make-up:

Her idea of heavy make-up:

Okay, it's really not that bad, but still. Our ideas of how I should dress differ quite strongly. While I am happy in sweatpants, a v-neck, and Toms with (let's be totally honest) zero to no make-up, she wants dresses and skirts and eyeliner and blush and pink and stuff that really kind of feels like six different shades of effort.

So when my Econ teacher came up to my mother to tell her about how she met my sister ("And I thought it was Kait, but I realized I have never seen her with that much make-up on!"), the dispute was reborn. Only this time she had the Social Science department on her side.

They are ganging up on me.

So tonight I had a church function that required me to put on "real-people clothes." I begrudgingly emerged from my room in one of my less bothersome outfits.

High-waisted skirt, cardigan, ballet flats, the works. I even threw on some eyeliner and mascara for kicks. My mother cheered for the skirt, then begged me to put on lipstick and blush because it still wasn't enough.


The minute we got home, I got my revenge.

Sweatpants, sweater, t-shirt, vans. Feel free to comment on my Princeton t-shirt and UCLA sweatpants. All I needed was my Cal sweatshirt and I would have been totally ready to go. My mother's enthusiasm was palpable.