Ok. It has happened. I have MOST OFFICIALLY crossed over the uncool side. Not only uncool, but the sell-out side too. And I blame my daughter. My red/pink/frilly/lacy/all-things-branded/merchandising-loving daughter. I am a shadow of my former self. York University called to take back its degree in Women’s Studies, and my former Queen Street West friends have removed me from their speed dial.
Let me explain a bit.
Since turning 4 years old (or even before that, to be honest), Alice has been swept up in all things merchandised. And the more traditionally “girly”, the more enticing. Barbie, Disney, Polly Pocket – these are her best friends. I’ve tried to introduce her to the less offensive ones, the girls with spunk and sass and smarts. But she shrugs me off. When I helpfully hand her a little Madeline or Olivia or even Eloise, she shoves a huge book of singing princesses in my face, saying “but this is who I love, mommy!”
And now lately, she has moved onto characters from the terrible most awful franchise called High School Musical. When she sees the two lead characters dance and sing together, her eyes glaze over in a trance of Disney-love and I want to wrap a hand sewn shawl made by Naomi Klein around her.
But the worse part? I’ve allowed it to happen. I’ve let her watch the movies and go see the ice show because truthfully, this is who my daughter is. Despite my best efforts for otherwise, Alice truly loves these branded toys. She loves Gabrielle and Troy. She loves dancing around to “the music in me” song from that horrible movie, and she loves watching it over and over AND OVER again.
But even worse than the worst part I mentioned above? Oh god, here comes my shameful secret. The reason why I feel like a sell-out, and why I will be shaking under the blankets tonight: somehow through osmosis, I have learned the lines to Music in Me. As in – it lives in my brain. And sometimes, while doing the dishes or surfing blogs, I will start singing it. Disney has entered my consciousness and won’t let me go. I’m a part of their army now – when the reserves for the Mouse get called up, I’ll have to go willingly.
It’s all over from here.