You know something? You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I'm a tough guy. I am. I have a really cool tough-guy job. I spend my time at work talking about better ways to shoot people. I train with all manner of weapons on a daily basis, and try to improve the skills of my students. You know... tough-guy stuff.
One of the things about being a modern tough guy is this: You can't be tough all of the time. Like four nights ago.
So there I was, Monday evening... about to do some laundry, because soccer girl (who is ten) needed some things washed before going to Day Camp at the beginning of the week. Mrs GF was paying attention to a particular article of laundry and gesturing so that I would also take note (soccergirl was in the room, reading). I wasn't sure of what she had in her hands, but after the briefest bit of confusion, she made it clear to me that the item was... well... something that I have been dreading for a while.
It was a training bra.
What? A training bra? Certainly not yet.
Despite my disbelief, it was indeed, a training bra.
Dude. I'm not ready. I'm not ready for this at all.
I mean, I know that my daughter is growing rapidly. I know that she has acquired new-found modesty, I know that she isn't going to remain the child that I would carry upstairs and put in her loft bed every night. I know that she is growing has grown out of wanting me to sing her to sleep at night... and I know that there will be knuckle-headed idiots that I may have to kill boys in her future... but I'm not ready for it now.
I was speechless, and Mrs Gunfighter put a finger to her lips to make sure that I stayed silent. Later, after soccergirl went to bed, we talked about this new developement... I mean the bra, not sg's developement, and I found that I still couldn't speak about it.
I have been writing this post in my head ever since then... and I still can't gather any more coherent thought than this: My little girl isn't a little girl anymore, and as natural as that is, I feel like crap about it.
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