It’s not that there’s anything wrong with Pantene or Suave or (gulp) White Rain. It’s that I see it in her bathroom and all of a sudden I’m leaking more water than the shower head. Because I can imagine her walking into the store, looking at all the options, looking at all the prices, and choosing to buy this one. She chose this shampoo!
Chose? But she’s a kid, right? She’s a baby? Only adults buy toiletries! Here in her apartment are all the things she picked out and all the things she hung up, decorated like her own declaration of independence. Like she’s saying, “Here is me - grown up!”
I want to hide it all behind a curtain of lastima so that I can keep her pink and pure. So that I can put her in my pocket and keep her safe. Keep her a newborn, in an incubator, or better yet, I’ll keep her the seed in my mother’s belly! Embryos can’t buy shampoo - so they can never chose wrong.