Now that I look back at the photos where my sister and I are wearing identical outfits, I can laugh at the pain that I once endured. Surely I never liked these outfits when I was younger. I cried and held fits, protesting not to have to match my sister. I protested to the best of my four year old ability. One sailor dress was torture enough. We looked like a giant blob of stripes, red bows and embarrassed faces.
I like to look at old albums as frequently as possible, mostly ones from when I was younger. Over the years the albums have aged as I have. They have frayed near the edges from years of being thrown around and some of the rings can barely close anymore. It’s interesting to look at yourself in the past and then compare that self to who you are today. Over the years, my hair has grown longer and darker; I have grown taller, and I have matured. I was once so cute, so innocent and so little. These days are vague in my memory now. Even though I hated matching outfits when I was younger and would do anything to get out of them, now that I’m older I see it from my mom’s perspective. It was cute and adorable.
There’s my sister and me, posing for the photograph that is just about to capture this moment in time forever. We don’t look quite as awkward as we feel. There we are around the time of noon, or whenever church finishes. We appear to be standing on the strangest cut grass I have ever seen. Only a few strips down the middle are cut, like a catwalk for my sister and me to model our absurd dresses. Maybe my grandfather was trying to be artistic with the lawnmower that day. He was actually the one who was responsible for buying the dresses. He cared for his lawn as he cared for his own children and grandchildren. It was always flawlessly cut, a perfect shade of rich green, and it was normally mowed properly, with the exception of this sunny spring day.
All too clearly I remember being forced into a matching dress every Sunday morning before church. Even though many years have passed, I’m still a tiny bit horrified. I still remember the fights, the fits and the stares very vividly in my mind. One day it would be matching sailor dresses and another would be matching lime green ruffled skirts. Once I was forced to wear a scratchy, dark green sweater with a large cat on the front. As if that wasn’t already bad enough, the cat had a giant bell around its neck which jingled with every step I took. I solved the problem later by taking the sweater into my room and savagely ripping off the bell. At church, my sister and I would always be stared and smiled at by the older women. They found us adorable and showed their feelings of endearment by giving us twenty five cents and a hard candy from their pocket. Both items came from the same pocket which always left the candy tasting metallic.
The matching outfits continued for a few too many years. They eventually stopped when I gained an attitude and decided that I needed to have total control over my clothing. It was cute while it lasted, but I am incredibly glad that I dress myself now. If I walked through the cruel high school halls with my sister wearing matching sailor dresses today, we would be the target of every possible mean joke. There is a time and place when everything is considered acceptable, and matching outfits just are not plausible anymore.
Most children always say that they never want to be like their parents and that they don’t want to raise their own children the way that they were raised. However, I differ in both senses. I plan to make my children wear matching outfits. They will hate it exactly as I did. They will fight me every Sunday before church, every Christmas and every birthday when I attempt to curl their hair without burning them too much. The fighting and crying will become a tradition, just like it did when I was younger.
Everything gradually changes as time passes. I no longer wear matching outfits, or even dresses for that matter. And I know that since my grandfather passed away a few years ago, the grass has never been cut so artistically. It’s even started to become less green. Life changes so quickly and without any warning. If you look away for one brief moment you can become totally lost. I suppose I just miss the days when matching outfits were my biggest problem.
