About crying skirts
About crying skirts, when it comes to skirts, I believe that every girl's closet has a few of their favorite skirts! And the origin and story of different people's closet skirts are different, here is the article I share with you about crying skirts!
About the crying skirt 1Did the sun come out of the west, mother this time I do not know how much fortune, even on a whim to buy back three skirts - two pink, a watermelon red, are my favorite color; and the texture is very smooth, touch like satin. I have not seen the world's children, see the new clothes thought damask satin but just like this, in fact, far from being the same thing.
With my mom's habit, if it is not a stall sale, she would never buy three at a time with such a large sum of money; besides, the bag is shy and can not be bought. Although it is a stall goods, but for many years do not know what the new clothes look like for us, it is hanging in the window of the exquisite high-grade goods. The first thing you need to do is to get a good deal on a new product or service.
Three dresses! Three ah!
The number alone is enough to make you open your mouth in surprise and forget to close it. And what about skirts? What does a skirt mean? It means a graceful little lady, a favorite fairy, a pampered little girl. However, in our family, to be exact, our village, the girls are coarse maiden, be made to call, if further back a little bit, it is the sharecropper's poor children, born is the life of the coarse cloth linen.
Before that, mom almost never bought us a skirt, of course, we have not worn a skirt, anyway, perennial hot pants that are popular today, wearing easy to move, do things well, and save fabric.
The skirt is a symbol of the ladies, we are all day in the mountains, in the fields, crawling and rolling wild children, wearing a skirt will only spoil the skirt. You can't wear a skirt to climb a tree, wearing a skirt to the field rice planting it, however, leisure time, wear a stinky beauty is also good.
Perhaps, mom has the will to train us in the direction of ladies, if this is the case, I do not need to be like a boy, all day on the mountain to collect firewood, down the field planting.
At this point, I'm like the farmer who picked up an egg, just picked up an egg, and started to fantasize about having a bunch of concubines. Obviously, overthinking it.
The reason why mom bought these three dresses, but just happened to coincide with the clearance sale, buy one get two free. Besides, if you really want to cultivate a lady, that is also my sister`s exclusive, not my share. I was born a tomboy still want to wear a skirt, change the attire, as a lady, that is also a toad painted green paint want to become a frog, as a result, jumped into the water, the original form is revealed.
What is more frustrating is that my mom originally intended to share a dress for me to wear, and looked at the consequences of my trying on, and decisively came to say: "It is better to give all of them to my sister, you look like this, don't waste the dress, and when my sister can't wear it anymore, then I will give it to you!"
What heavenly reason ah, only a little longer, a little bigger, a little wider. Although, the size is not competitive, can not hold up, wear on the body, like wearing a Taoist robe, but even if it is a Taoist robe I like, I have to occupy a piece.
"You this is not the general Taoist robe, that is and the ground Taoist robe, if you are not careful, be stepped on from behind, you have to fall down a big heel, people turn over, four feet to the sky!" Mom kindly advised.
"Why? Why!" I really wanted to look up to the sky and sigh, hating to pull myself up a little higher, or fill a few random bowls of rice to prop myself up. Materialistic dialectics tells us that improvising is mostly useless.
"You're stepping on the floor in this skirt, and then the skirt won't be worn for a few days and you'll step on it, so isn't it a waste of my money?" Mom asked rhetorically.
Anything that involves wasting money, I was immediately dumbfounded. But when I bought it in the first place, why did I buy the same one, couldn't I have bought a slightly smaller one? Being able to think of this means that my mind is still spinning and I'm not head over heels in grief and can't drill my way out.
"Mom, then why don't you buy a smaller one, you have bought three pieces, preferring to buy the same size, hit the beginning, did not consider buying me one, is not it?" I questioned with a face full of aggression, there is a knot in my heart, more and more tightly twisted.
"People are left with these three pieces, very cheaply sold to me, where do I go to find you a smaller skirt ah." Mom had a real mouthful to say.
"Biased, biased, you're just biased." I cried even more.
"Biased is biased, you can say what you like, anyway, this skirt you can not wear, only for your sister to wear." Mom didn't bother to pay attention to me.
It's a good thing that I've been arguing with her all afternoon about this topic, and not only did I not get the dress, but I got a lot of abuse from her, so if I argue with her any longer, it won't be a battle of the lips, it'll be a battle of the sticks.
I don't dare to challenge her authority, but I'm not willing, really not willing.
Since I was a child, my clothes were either worn by my sister or carried by my mother from a relative's home; perhaps, after getting used to wearing old clothes, my desire for new clothes became stronger, unprecedentedly strong. Like a person who has never known the taste of meat, but also eager to taste a mouthful of fresh broth, the feeling, like an itch in the heart.
Although most of my inventory is left over from my sister's wear, there is a time to wear new clothes, and that is - the Lunar New Year. Strange enough, no matter how poor that time, the set of new clothes for New Year's Eve is unchanging. So, when I was a child, I was especially looking forward to the New Year, because only on New Year's Day can I wear new clothes, and only on New Year's Day will my mom buy me a new set of clothes. All year round, just this one time, this one time, really belong to my time to buy clothes.
Usually, as soon as the summer is over, I start to count the days of the New Year on my fingers, and every day in my head, I am counting down to the New Year, and instead of looking forward to the New Year, I am looking forward to the time to buy new clothes.
Spring Festival in my day and night countless hard counting, slowly came; new clothes in my day and night countless hard counting, grand coming. Looking at the new texture, bright colors, the heart is like a deer in the headlights, carefully hold them in the palm of your hand, can not wait to wear to the body, as if the bride on the wedding dress of desire.
Of course, just try on, the so-called try on, is wearing the new clothes, walk around the village pond, bump into this grandmother, show people, and tell them about the beauty of this set of clothes; bump into that grandma, and then give people a closer look, show off this color how bright, how comfortable the texture.
Every time, everyone is also very supportive, enthusiastically praised a few clothes, if another sentence "you wear new clothes really beautiful", the joyful mood almost to fly. It's not a matter of innate vanity, but a genuine desire to share this joy with others. This circle parade down, simply a bit like the TV, riding a high horse, 10,000 people surrounded by the boy who returned home.
Walked around, exhibition, we have to be reluctant to take off the new clothes, wait for the first day of the New Year can be officially put on, when the New Year, full of rituals. Although, the clothes do not see how good, how new style, how expensive, but as long as it is new, we are overjoyed and happy.
"Why do I have to wear my sister's old clothes, why?" Despite having long ago accepted this reality that is not mine, the heart is still on the verge of defiance. These words resounded from time to time, like echoes from a deep valley, constantly echoing and reverberating in the heart.
About the weeping skirt2She ran． The beige dress was blown up by the wind． The purple stars on her white shoes swayed in the sunlight． Her beauty blossomed into white flowers. A wave of ripples in her eyes. The brimming luster is clear.
She was seventeen years old. How could she see the lewdness in their eyes.
They pulled up in front of her. The dust raised blinds her. Get in the car. Take you to your sister.
Big-eyed sister. How long has it been since we've seen each other? She pivoted on her toes and walked over. Thank you, brother. The voice was sweet to the point of sadness.
He took her to a hotel. It wasn't until he locked the door and pinned her to the bed that she panicked. She panicked. Brother. Where is my sister. What are you doing?
His breath on her neck. What are you doing with her? Am I not happy with you?
In front of her eyes were the fluttering curtains. The curtains are blown by the wind. The wind blew the curtains up. You've been drinking. Don't talk nonsense. You're my sister's boyfriend.
He freed a hand to close the window. The curtains were quiet for a moment. Stick to the translucent glass. All the sunlight was shut out to the sky. He pressed tightly against her. She could not move. Brother, no, no, let go of me.
He wiped away the tears on her cheeks. Fool. Joking with you. Let's go find her.
She froze and cocked her head.
She cocked her head in disbelief. I'm not going to be able to do that.
You are a fool. I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that. And you're still following. I'm not going to be able to do that.
He takes her to a nightclub. She tilts her head and asks him what her sister is doing here.
His gentle smile was like a strong net. She's playing inside. You'll see her when you go in.
She was happy as a sunflower in the hot sun. Thank you, brother.
Why don't you turn around? You never know how to turn back. Dear girl. You were born stubborn. Can you turn around and see the hard warmth that he pretends to be.
She walked in. The moment the glass was pulled shut. She was pushed down on the sofa. She looked at them. A dozen men. No sister.
He waved at them and told her to sit here at the table.
Her ears started making noises again. Like being locked in a dark, dark room as a child, her own sobs echoing off the walls, long enough to make some unwilling echo. She stood up, I'm leaving.
They surrounded her. One man shakes her hard with a nice crisp slap. She falls back on top of the couch. They dragged her and beat her as they went up the stairs. Her bones clacked against the marble steps with a dull, heavy thud. They left her in a private room. The room was dark. How dark. So dark that she couldn't see their faces, only that there were three of them doing it. The man said to the open doorway, "Go down, you guys. Unlock the door.
The men forced her to undress. She refused. The man took out his dagger. You do not take off? I'll carve words on you. They held her down, the silver sharpening against her neck. The tip of the dagger blossomed on her shoulder, as colorful as a cuckoo. She looks at him, I'm not taking it off! The man stroked her shoulder, how smooth, what a shame to carve the words, I'm not ready to give up.
They pulled her skirt. Her beige dress. Her beige dress cries with her.
She knelt before the men. Brother! I call you brother! You have a sister, don't you? You don't want someone to do this to your sister, do you? Brother! Let go of me!
For the first time in her life, she knelt in front of others. The man, however, laughed a sturdy laugh that rose high and scattered in every corner. The coffee table was overturned, the window was poked open, the water in the cup spilled on her legs.
But is it useful to struggle? It did.
They were gone. The door is still unlocked. She was still lying on the dark green couch. The setting sun shone on her legs. The dried blood reminded her that everything just now was real not an illusion not a nightmare. She put on her tattered beige dress. Stands on the windowsill and jumps off.
What is despair. You know what?
Just die. But the 2nd floor wasn't enough to die. Her knee is busted. Bleeding mournfully. Walking all the way, bleeding all the way. She forgot how she walked home.
She paused in the corner. No sound. Shedding tears.
She still has that beige dress from when she was 20. The dress she wore in the summer of 17. The beige dress she wore in the most innocent and beautiful years of her life.