Not sure if you noticed (this is where I imagine you shouting "yes we did, we missed you lots!" ), but I have not blogged for some time. Not my fault. It is just that it has been unbelievably warm and sunny here. For the whole week we basked in glorious sunshine. On Thursday morning, around 7am, when I was getting in my car to drive to work, I noticed a thin layer of substance on the windscreen. Thought it was volcanic ash, but it turned out to be ice. Oh, I thought, that’s it. Back to normal, then.
But, by the afternoon, it was hot and sunny again.
And when it is this lovely outside, all I want to do is sit in the garden with friends, consume endless amounts of BBQ meat, and sip some chilled white wine. On Friday, I started early, with a few mums from school.... and smoothly continued into the evening, when some other local friends came for dinner. Clearly, was not in the best state for blogging.
We have been discussing this the other day.
In theory, should be shocking. But it isn’t. Not in the UK. So many shops here either sell, or have at some point attempted to sell, sexually suggestive clothing for children. I am talking lacy thongs and padded black bras for 9 year olds. Is it really that surprising that the teenage pregnancy rate in the UK is higher than anywhere else in Europe?
Encouraged by the over-sexed fashion, and -oh, don’t forget-free council housing, girls as young as 13 happily engage in sexual relationship.
I had my first boyfriend at school. We were 15 and thought of ourselves as cool and brave because we occasionally skived off lessons. We even went to the beach a few times. Shocking! We might have smoked a few cigarettes. No drugs. And no sex. I mean, absolutely no sex. In fact, my blue-eyed boyfriend never even kissed me. (even though, I was,of course, hoping) Our physical proximity was limited to slow dances at parties; also, in cinema, encouraged by the darkness, he would place his arm across the back of my seat.
OK, I might be getting more conservative with age. But this sexualisation of young girls in the UK concerns me. As a mother of a four year old, I thought I did not have to think about it for many, many years. But suddenly, I find myself noticing things that make me uncomfortable.
They are only four, but some of them dress like teenagers, showing up at parties wearing fishnet tights and bright pink lip gloss.
I know a few of my mummy friends would not see any problem with that. They would argue that it is just fashion, and there is absolutely no connection between painted nails at the age of four, and having sex at the age of thirteen.
But isn’t it all about growing up too early?
What are we going to do? I ask Husband. What are we going to do when she shows up one day with a boyfriend?
Husband said he would do what Bruce Willis suggested. Wait till the first one comes over, kill him and hope that the word gets around.