That Baby Is a Tramp

Can somebody PLEASE explain the allure of sexy baby stuff? I just don't get it. (Maybe a toddler could help me out with the issue?) Let's ask one year old Hailey, a tramp-in-the-making and huge fan of The House of Dereon.

As a 12 month old girl in a very adult world, I've got more on my plate than just mashed peas and animal crackers. Anybody born before 2006 has no idea what kind of pressure a toddler like me goes through on a daily basis (well, except for Larry Birkhead, but he's stunted). Crawl a mile in my booties for a day and you'll be glad you're all grown up with someplace to go. In fact, follow me through a typical day in the life of ME and you might just appreciate the brevity of my situation.

First, there's the drama surrounding 'what to wear' every morning. I'm a big fan of those comfy PediPeds, but there's so much pressure to be tall and thin. (Thank goodness for Heelarious High-Heels for babies! My fat tootsies aren't exactly ready for Manolo Blahniks just yet, but I'm working on it.)
Then there is the issue of what to wear from the ankles (or in my case, cankles) up. Sex appeal is important to me, but I don't want people to think I'm too slutty. (I'm also self conscious about diaper buldge, so my 'Daddy's Condom Broke' onesie is usually my second choice.)

Daddy thinks my "Future Heartbreaker" top is a little too grown up for me, but mommy likes the fact that I'm working my junk while still cutting my milk teeth. (It drives those three year old boys crazy!) But enough about outfits -- I have bigger fish to fry.

Deciding what to do with my hair is another issue those of you with flowing locks can't truly appreciate. Sure, those cute little bows are all the rage, but they hurt like hell (and make me look like a damned Yorkie.) Plus I'm not giving up that easily. I am going to keep sporting my Lil Kim baby wig until grade school if I have to. (No, I'm not sporting a bald head. Don't bother asking me about it again. Done. Over. End of story.)

And don't get me started on boy issues. I've really been cutting back on the carbs, but my baby belly just won't budge. How on earth can anybody expect me to show my face at the kiddie pool (and in my new Babi-Kini nonetheless!?) As a precautionary measure, I had mommy buy me a size 2-3 (toddler) in the Americana print and a size 0-1 (toddler) in the Leopard print -- just in case my weight fluctuates. (Mommy is pumping again this week, so I'm back on the boob until further notice.)


One of my goals in the next 12 months is to own my own child's corset top. (Mommy says I have to wait another year because they don't make them in my size. But I have a feeling my chest is going to blossom any day now. Either that, or I'll get really gassy.)

I am also hell bent on hitting the beauty pageant circuit ASAP. (Here is a picture of last year's winner. Ha! That bitch has nothing on me. Just look at her tie dye get-up and fake curly hair piece!) Hey, pageant people. Start shining up my crown, pronto. I'm already working on my acceptance speech, which goes a little something like this. "Mah ferrth blooh meeeeck ha dada," and so on, and so forth...

When people ask, "What's the rush? Why do you want to grow up so fast?" I worry that they're missing the point. You see, society needs my innocence to push more and more grown up products on my parents, and what kind of selfish little shit would I be to stand in their way? Anyhow, as long as I pretend that my loaded diaper doesn't stink, I get cool shit like this blinged-out pacifier. (I just haven't figured out which part goes in my mouth yet, and which goes up my nose -- but I'm working on it.)
Disclaimer: For those of you who don't get irony, I'm poking fun at the stupid people who make sexy stuff for babies.