Drinking the Kool-Aid

Katie has a new solo dress. The beautiful labor of love that our friend Judy made last year had been altered to as large as possible and wasn’t quite fitting comfortably anymore. Sigh.

Miraculously, we found a very nice second-hand dress for sale at a feis which has a bit of growing room in it. Katie LOVES this dress, and it does look lovely on her.

It is very… champion. It is very… glitzy competition. It is… well, it is very!

Please don’t misunderstand me – I do love this dress. I love the way my daughter giggles when she wears it. I love the way it flows and sparkles when she dances.

And, much as I HATE to admit this, I love the way she “fits in” with the high-level Irish dance competitors.

Yep, we’re drinking the Kool-Aid.

Now, the defensive side of me is screaming, “But it’s not the ‘over-the-top-pay-through-the-nose-designer-froo-froo’ that truly hard core Irish dance champion dancer families seek!”

No, it’s not. But…

The really big change in costume regarding this solo dress purchase has to do with hair style.

Or lack thereof.

Wig.

Yes, wig.

Not cute little bun cover.

Not sweet curls surrounding young girl’s face.

WIG.

BIG wig.

(Uh-oh, here comes that defensive voice again…)

“But it’s not the BIIIIIIIIG wig with the poofy lifter thingies underneath and the multiple tiers of sausage curls piled three stories above two tiaras! Not THAT kind of wig!”

No, it’s not. But…

It’s still a LOT of curly stuff atop a nine-year-old’s noggin.

Curious yet? Here’s a photo:



Pink, of course! I’m glad for that.

I do love it.

This is the part with which I still struggle…



Look at this beautiful long blonde hair…



And this sweet young face…



And I’m covering it with…



…wig.



But like I said, she looks like the champion dancer that she is!



Sip, sip…