So, I had this great idea last night where I was going to take a photo of the outfit I picked out for Miss O, and then I'd take a picture today of the actual outfit Miss O wore to school, after the Old Lady changed it. See, every other night, I pick out Miss O's clothes for school and, nine times out of ten, the Old Lady changes things around the next morning "so they actually go together" and, well, there you have it. Here's the outfit I picked out last night:
See, now I think that goes together great. The shirt's kind of a creamy white with a maroony pattern. The skirt is brown with kinda creamy/pinky mini polkadots, and the tights are black. What the shit?! It goes, goddammit.
So, this morning, as the Old Lady was getting Miss O ready, I hear the girl start screaming at the top of her lungs about how she wanted to wear the outfit the DADDY picked out for her and how she REFUSED to wear anything else. It was insanity. MAJOR lid-flippage.
Of course, the Old Lady just thinks Miss O was being her normal, contrarian self, but I think she had finally had enough of poor old Dad being undermined by Ms. Fucking Blackwell every other day. She was putting her foot down, goddammit, and that foot had better be in the tights that Dad picked out! The screamfest went back and forth for awhile, so I high-tailed it outta there and bolted to the Y for a swim.
I didn't find out how things turned out until after school. Here's what Miss O ended up in:
She managed to keep the shirt and the skirt, but fuck if the Old Lady didn't get her outta those black tights. I'll take it as a minor victory for the clothes-tarded, though. NEVER SURRENDER, MISS O! REMEMBER, DADDY'S ALWAYS RIGHT!
I still think the original outfit went together, goddammit.