My youngest just turned 12. And, because he’s a 6th grade boy, Youtube plays a highly influential role in his life (more than I’d like to admit). That means the top item on his birthday list was a sweatshirt designed by some famous gamer—likely someone who plays Fortnite, if I know my kid.
He sent me the link. Then he followed up—over and over for the weeks leading up to his birthday. “Do you think you might get me that sweatshirt? Have you ordered anything online lately? Have you decided on any birthday gifts yet?”
I kept him in suspense, even throughout his entire birthday, as we didn’t do presents until that evening when Dad got home.
But yes, there it was—the not-at-all-cheap sweatshirt he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t wait to wear it the next day.
Only when he got off the bus the following afternoon, he didn’t have his usual energy, and in fact, seemed a little down. Shoulders hunched. An unhappy face.
“Everything okay?” I asked him. “What did everyone think about your cool new sweatshirt?”
“Some kids made fun of it,” he replied.
I soon learned that not all of his friends feel the same about this gamer, and a bunch of kids teased him for wearing the sweatshirt. The same sweatshirt he’d been dreaming about for weeks.
“Okay, but do you like it?” I asked him.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“And what do we do or say when someone doesn’t like our hair or outfit or something else about us?”
“I say, ‘Well I like it!’ and that’s it,” he responded.
That’s it.
This is a big lesson in our house. We give ourselves permission to like what we like, as long as we’re not hurting anyone. If we want to have a unique haircut or wear an outfit that stands out or listen to music none of our friends listen to, we do it anyway because it makes us happy.
And the same goes for us, the parents. I have an entire chapter in my book about encouraging us, grown-a** women, to like what we like. I like Friends re-runs, crunchy snacks, and musicals. I listen to nerdy Podcasts everyday and read sad historical fiction that makes me cry. I wear makeup almost never, live in comfy clothes, and play Christmas music starting November 1. And I love, love, love Taylor Swift and know the entire Tortured Poets Department album by heart.
I do not care if anyone thinks the things I like are dumb or I’m too old or I should dress differently. And I don’t want my kids to care either.
My daughter just bought a dress for 8th grade graduation, which is coming up in a couple months. It’s a floor-length dress, and to use her words, “way too fancy for 8th grade graduation.”
But the minute she saw it, she knew. It was the one. “I don’t care if it’s too fancy. Or that no one else will wear something like this. I love it so much and I’ve never felt more beautiful in anything I’ve put on.”
Well there you go.
Like what you like. Even if you stand out. Especially if you stand out.
The end.
And, to circle back to my son, he’s worn that sweatshirt 10 times since. Because he loves it—as he should.
(This is not the sweatshirt in question—I don’t have a pic of it—but I love this picture. Sometimes my kids really actually love each other. 🥰)
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