The redhead wore a sundress to school today.

Because here it is about 24 degrees celsius, which is rather warm, almost like, summer warm!
       I know America, you are severely jealous, but I mean, you guys get out of school for summer vacation two months earlier, so don't be whinin'. (at this moment I am sticking my tongue out at you)....
        I'm usually not a big proponent of dresses of any sort, or at least I wasn't until I learned the secret of wearing dresses comfortably from my best friend: wear a pair of shorts underneath! Wear very short shorts and you can do whatever you want without worrying about your knickers (heehee, british word) showing! Plus you can come up and flash people you know who are very proper so that they think you are actually going to flash them with yo underwear, however in actuallity it's not a big deal. It's funny.
          But even with this rule I have strict reservations to dresses:
                          1. I must be able to move freely in it.
                          2. It must be at least down to the tops of my knees.
                          3. I do not wear high heels, so it needs to be a dress that goes with comfotable footwear.
       I don't really wear dresses. I refused to when I was little, but then again I also screamed my lungs out when someone tried to give me pony tails, and I always pretended I was a boy named Denis.... I hated barbies to the point of intense violence towards them (such as decapitation) and I hung with boys, I played hot wheels and lego. I wanted to be big and strong and fearless, and, not that I couldn't have done that as a girl but it always seemed to me that at least in books and TV shows and Movies the boys were strong and the hero and saves the girl and falls in love with her. I just didn't want to be girly, and dresses were girly and girly seemed to mean weak in those days.
       The main reason I really hated dresses for a while though, was because of the first time I ever wore a dress of my own free will.
       I think I was probably around the age of six. The dress in question was a tank-top purple dress that was covered in various smiley faces. It was really hot outside, mid-summer. My mom was coming home soon and I decided I would dawn a dress for her afternoon home coming. It wasn't a particularly special day, I just felt like it. I went out with my sisters in our backyard, waiting, and as I waltzed out to the edge of our steep orchard hill a bee landed on my hand and stung me. It took effect immediately I began crying and yelling because, well, it hurt. We got into the house and put some ice on it but my hand was swelling to a Hagrid-worthy size (Harry Potter reference Hagrid is a half giant), an unsafe size. All I remember is that everyone was freaking out and someone called emergency people and they came and treated my and I was better. But I learned that day that I was allergic to bees, something that I grew out of, but was very scary in my early days at recess.
        I guess my brain just connected dresses and deadly bee stings, but I grew out of that too now. in a dress I can be just as strong as I want to be and happy and jumpy and independent. YAY!
Have a smiley weekend!
Deni