Lori Gordon | Sociological

When I was five, I was the only daughter in my family. My Mother made no bones about the fact that having a daughter was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. I always felt pretty, I loved my clothes as my mom hand made all of them, indulged my love of short hair and made me understand that being a female was an honor.

Growing up in this environment, loved and nurtured made me feel very special. On my fifth birthday I was given the doll I am holding in the picture. Her name was Pamela. She had the bluest eyes and the prettiest face. I LOVED her. I could feed her water in a teeny tiny bottle that came with her and she in turn could wet her diaper! (The water had to go somewhere!!) She came packaged in the most beautiful box and there were three diapers to use for changing. She slept with me, bathed with me, played with me all day long and was allowed into my most sacred space which was my life sized Wendy House that my grandfather built me.

As an adult, the photo I forward to you holds a special place in my heart. Haircut day, pretty dress and Pamela in the photo with me. Aaah life was so uncomplicated when I was 5!!