Plain Red Turtlenecks

The costumes arrived Wednesday in a flurry of tulle and glitter. When I stopped by to drop off some sewing, I asked what the Boy's outfits were, and I got handed a metallic red button down. Plain, but okay. I could live with it.

Imagine my horror when the real outfit was not a metallic red button down. It was a plain red cotton turtleneck, bought at Target. How do we know? The tags were still on them. Worse, they were all too big. Stitch's hit him at his knees, and he wasn't the only one with that problem.

Soak this in for a minute. We parents of boys paid our money for a costume, not an outfit we could have picked up for school wear. Here were all these girls in glitter and frills, and here come the boys in ill-fitting plain turtlenecks. Dumpy, frumpy, and stupid looking, and all the boys knew it. Even thenTot boys were in plain white turtlenecks, sorely out of place with their glittery, fairy winged girls standing right next to them.

So, with a heavy heart, I went to join the ranks of the complainers. I knew the people I was complaining to were not the right people, so I kept it to a short rant and a "We need to do something."

When the boys were done with their number, we hijacked their shirts. We trimmed them, no time to hem, glittered and painted them. I stayed until roughly midnight, and I had to leave so Stitch could get to bed. He had school in the morning. They look better, more like an actual costume and not a Target purchase, but I still hate them. I hate them because they are everything that isn't fair about that show. Not a soloist? Go away. In a Group Number? No one really cares about those. Have a suggestion? Screw off. Want to help? Don't call us, we'll call you.

I glued appliques and stones on the Tot Boys turtlenecks, too. Someone has got to advocate for these little boys.

Notes were left on the costumes, stating "unavoidable delays" and "everyone will look great." Nonsense, don't buy it. A City Manager with his head up his ass is not an "unavoidable delay," and nothing says "fresh out of the package with no time to fall" like a girl with a tutu up around her chest.

But I'm just a Lunatic, Neurotic Mom, so I'm fairly sure that my complaints won't go far. I don't know how many more shows Stitch can do. I don't know how much more I can take of watching him do short choreography in a crap outfit, knowing I'm paying out the ass for the privilege. And there's only so many times I can be accused of being a lunatic before I become one.