To tell you the truth, I don’t really give a shit that Gwyneth Paltrow is selling bikinis for little girls through her website, GOOP. Gwyneth Paltrow is also the person who suggested your spring wardrobe could use a $1,615 black skirt. She’s not really the arbiter of sensibility or good taste, no matter how many thousand-dollar clothing items she convinces you that you just have to have. The bikini in question is a $45 miniature version for girls (pictured at right) that matches an adult design, all of which were created by designer Melissa Obadash for GOOP. I do think that bikinis are too grown up for five-year-olds; I also think that this battle against the sexualization of young girls has already been lost. Bikinis for little girls aren’t going to go anywhere. I wouldn’t buy a bikini for my own hypothetical kid because I just think one-pieces are more appropriate, but Gwynnie and her GOOPies can do what they want — and expect the rest of us to laugh at them. [Styleite, Daily Mail UK]
Okay, so this story is a little old, but I’m posting because it’s still utterly charming: a little boy wanted the “Sofia The First” DVD, a random douchebag in line piped up to say the kid shouldn’t watch “girl movies,” the boy’s dad defended his son’s right to watch princess flicks, and then some lady in line offered to buy the kid “Sofia The First” because seeing a dad stick up for his kid’s girly interests made her day. Yay, there are good people in the world! [Her.ie]
This video comes to us via reader Karinne, who quite rightly believes 2.5-year-old Sasha should be a star. What acting skills! Such verve! I keep watching it over and over again for the face she makes when she sing “When the dog bites … ” Watch your back, Julie Andrews. [YouTube]
Karen Braithwaite is a mom any Barbie lover would be lucky to have: she is asking Mattel to make birthday party merchandise featuring black Barbie dolls.
Mattel already sells black Barbie dolls (Barbie’s black friend Christie appeared in 1968; these days Barbie herself is black) and certain black Barbie items, such as stickers. But their sets of party goodies — cups, plates, etc. — do not include a complete set with black Barbies. All the full sets portray Barbie as white. Keep reading »
You can thank “Girls” for this: according to some new baby name study from baby-naming experts Nameberry, Marnie is the
top hot new baby name of 2013. Why people would want their kid to share a name with a whiny, self-absorbed, terrible-singing character on an HBO show is beyond me, but there you go. One man’s warbly bitch is another’s cute baby name. After the jump, the rest of Nameberry’s list, and what we imagine might be the motivation behind the sudden rise in popularity of these names.
Keep reading »
When I was a 10-year-old, the worst thing a boy did to me was put Scotch tape in my hair. If only! Proof that society is going down the toilet: two fifth grade boys in Colville, Washington, have first-degree murder conspiracy charges against them for plotting to rape and kill their female classmate. They were discovered on February 7 after a child saw one of the boys playing with a knife on the school bus; in a backpack, the kids had a .45-caliber semiautomatic pistol (stolen from a family member) and ammunition. One of the boys explained, “She’s rude and always made fun of me and my friends.” Keep reading »
My sister is the good daughter. My sister was kind enough to get married and procreate. She’s not only doing the species a favor, but my parents as well. My parents had always wanted to be grandparents to a couple of rascals. My sister gave them two: Jackson and Elliot. My parents are obsessed with them.
Just as it was when my sister and I were little, there’s nothing in the world my parents won’t do for Jackson and Elliot. My mother has completely re-centered her life around them and refuses to miss a holiday or birthday. I spent Christmas on the couch by myself, while my mom catered to my sister’s kids every whim in Colorado. “That was the choice you made,” my mother said. I’m not sure what choice she’s talking about — the one where I decided to move to New York City to pursue writing, or the one where I thought going to Colorado for Christmas would be the pits. We both hung up on each other before we could get into a lengthy discussion and ruin the holiday even more. Besides, being on the phone with me was tearing her away from the grandkids, and we can’t have that, can we?
Groan. Keep reading »
I am not a mother. This fact has kept me from expressing my heartbreak over the shootings in Sandy Hook. In the aftermath of this horrifying event, I’ve watched countless friends — mothers, all of them — post wrenching status updates on Facebook. I’ve read them, feeling oddly ashamed inside. These moms talked of compassion for those poor little children, of the need to step up to the plate as adults, of the fear they have for the future, of roiling anger toward the government, and of utter helplessness. They posted pictures of the beautiful young faces lost to this insane tragedy. They urged others to take a stand, and to hold their own children close.
The same thoughts streamed through my head. Tears welled in my eyes, too. I texted my siblings and begged them to hug and kiss their little ones for me.
But something was silencing the part of me that wanted to join these moms in their outrage. I felt it wasn’t my place. How could I know, after all, what kind of fear these parents were expressing? How could I possibly relate to their protective instincts? I am not a mother. Keep reading »
Mommie Dearest is The Frisky’s new biweekly column about being a mama.
I have a love/hate relationship with catalogs. There are some that I love to flip through and pretend that I have the money to burn. Who wouldn’t want her own cotton candy machine, night vision goggles, or handcrafted teak patio furniture? (I don’t even have a patio.) The holiday season provides me with an ample supply of these catalogs, depositing no less than three catalogs a day into my mailbox. However, they’re not all fantasy furnishings and expensive gadgets. The majority of the catalogs I receive actually cause me to roll my eyes, gnash my teeth and fill my already stuffed recycling bin to the brim: toy catalogs promoting tired traditional gender stereotypes. Keep reading »