In honor of Easter and a daddy/daughter dance I attended about 17 years ago, I thought I’d share this picture and today’s advice: Don’t let your daddy do your makeup or dress you.
Unless of course he’s a stylist. Or at least has an awesome fashion sense. But hell this was the 90’s, what that even possible?
My mom was at work and I begged and pleaded with my dad to let me wear makeup since my older half-sister could. “fine, this once,” he said. I got excited and ran to my mom’s room to fetch her makeup bag, and let my dad go to work.
My cheeks! it looks like the blush brush held me down and attacked me! And Lord what about that tent I’m wearing? My moms old sweater with the sleeves rolled up a billion times? I don’t even know what I’m wearing for pants or a skirt – but I bet it’s not attractive.
As you can see, none of us look all too happy and I think I cried, ha ha (but it was a great time, I swear!) I love my daddy, but I’m glad I’m old enough to do my own make up now. Maybe he was trying to teach me a lesson that I was too young to even be wearing it? Or wanted me to look hideous on purpose? If so, well-played padre!