Separation Anxiety

My big girl looks up as I am leaving the house.

"You're wearing those shoes?"

I am. Obviously.

"You can't wear those," she tells me.

I look down at the offending shoes. They're nice. Really. But they're flat. Not the kind of flats I'd wear every day to work. They're dressy. And I'm pretty sure she never objected when I wore them to a Bar Mitzvah or a Shabbos kiddush.

"You can't wear flats to a wedding." She's adamant.

"But this isn't a fancy wedding," I explain. "And it's late. And I'm cold. And tired. I don't feel like wearing heels."

She's not convinced.

"Besides," I add, "I'm an old lady."

"Yeah," she says, "but no one knows that."

I change my shoes.


I wonder...what do people do when they are not blessed with daughters? What did I do before my daughter was old enough? Who else can be trusted to give an honest answer to, "Do I look fat in this"?

And, suddenly, a terrifying thought crosses my mind. What will I do when my daughter gets married? How will I be trusted with the daunting task of choosing my own clothes? How will I make difficult decisions like what color lipstick to wear or when it's ok to wear boots? Am I doomed to a life of nerdy sweaters and unsuitable footwear?

I'm not ready for my daughter to get married, I realize. I'm not ready for her to leave home!

Something must be done, and I am resolved to do it. I will be independent. I will learn to part with my live-in fashion consultant, and I will allow my daughter to marry.

I drive to the mall, putting my thoughts into action. I stride confidently from store to store. And then I see it. I try it on, scrutinize my reflection in the mirror, and I buy it. All by myself.

I pull the sweater out of the bag when I get home, and proudly show it to my daughter.

She doesn't like it. I can tell.

But it's ok. This will take some time, I know. I just need more practice. Soon...soon...I can let her date.


I wore the sweater to work last week, and when I got home, my daughter gave me the once-over.

"I like your sweater." She seemed completely oblivious to my bewilderment. "Do you think I can borrow it?"

"But you didn't like it when I bought it!" Could it be that I'd misinterpreted her reaction?

"Oh, I changed my mind," she said lightly.

Yes! I can do this! I can select my own clothes, and they will not be nerdy. I can determine when black tights season begins and ends. I can decide which dress is appropriate for any occasion. And maybe, after careful deliberation, I can figure out which shoes to wear. Myself.

And...my daughter can get married now. I am ready!