Shot Down

“I’m gonna be a cowgirl and a dance hall girl. “  I had my life planned. I really wanted to be a cowboy, but had the bad luck to be born a girl.  I had no intention of being one of those silly girls who wore a tasseled skirt and made eyes at cowboys.  I’d be wearing jeans, roping and riding, and shooting snakes.  Then, I’d head in to the saloon, get into my floozy dress and dance the night away.  I loved that jangly honky-took piano..  For the grand finale, I’d flip up my skirttail and wiggle my butt at the appreciative cowboys.

Mother shot me down.  “No you’re not!  There’s no such thing as a cowgirl and you’re certainly not working in a dance hall!  You are not allowed to dance, anyway.. Besides, dancing makes your legs big.”

I was devastated.  Not allowed to dance?  What was I going to say to all the guys clambering to dance with me after my big finale?  From there, I was the star in dance-hall chorus line.  I’d be mortified to have to turn my back on my admirers.

I pushed back.  She clearly didn’t get the big picture.  “Then what am I gonna do when I get grown?”

”You’ll probably just be a housewife and take care of your kids, like me.” She pronounced.  The subject was closed.

She might as well have shot me between the eyes.

 

 

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