A Little Farm Girl

{A short autobiographical story I wrote for Enrichment the other day}




Once there was a little girl who lived on a small farm with her three brothers. She was a born tomboy who ran wild in the summertime, climbed trees, and swam in the irrigation ditch. She rarely brushed her long, tangle-prone hair, and only donned a dress when forced to on Sundays. One day this little girl moved away from the farm to the big city. But as the saying goes, you can take the girl out of the farm, but you cannot take the farm out of the girl. While other girls wore flirty skirts and makeup, and tried out for cheerleading, this girl wore secondhand sweaters and jeans and joined the chess club.

And so it continued for several years, until one day, an announcement was made. A pageant was going to be held, and any girl who wished to could participate. Against all reason, this girl picked up an application, filled it out, and found herself in another world. Saturday morning dance practices at 7:00… toe-pointing and ribbon-waving… makeup tips and curling irons and – heaven forbid - nylons… and yes, a dress would be required.

And so, an uncertain mother and daughter ventured out to go dress-shopping for the first time in many years. There was very little money, and this purchase would be a substantial sacrifice for a single mother of four. Together, mother and daughter scoured the sale racks, and one by one, the dresses were held up, scrutinized, admired…. There were satin dresses, chiffon dresses, plain dresses and frilly dresses, in pink, navy, and emerald. Most cost more than they had. At last, the perfect dress was chosen – ivory, with pretty lace and a skirt that flowed just right when the girl twirled.

After many weeks, the anticipated night arrived. This timid tomboy found herself onstage in cheetah print spandex performing ridiculous moves intended to demonstrate physical fitness. And a little later, in a borrowed red dress, fumbling on a grand piano. And finally, in that ivory gown and matching heels, waving her long satin ribbon in time with the other girls, and feeling like she had conquered the world. And for the first time, it didn’t matter that the other girls were much prettier, and more graceful, and obviously had worn heels and nylons before. All that mattered was the sacrifice of a proud mother who cheered from the audience, and the newfound confidence and gratitude of a little farm girl.