I can always try.

For her 5th birthday, my mother got my Ella tickets to see Miley Cyrus in concert. When the purchase for the event was made, we were under the impression that the show would be in the fashion of Miley's Disney alter-ego, Hannah Montana. After all, the Ticketmaster website had the logos for the television show of the same name on the Miley Cyrus screen. Ella was so excited to see the girl who sang her favorite songs, the quirky girl who played the wholesome youth on TV, the girl whose identity changed between pop icon and regular American girl. And my mom and I were so excited to see Ella's face when all of this came on stage.

It goes without saying that this "good" girl's identity did indeed change when she got on the stage. At first, I thought someone had kidnapped Hannah Montana. Not to be upstaged by her creepy older brother's opening act (I mean, really, is it okay to sing "bring me up, take it off, let's just touch, I'm coming down" to a bunch of 5 and 6 year olds?), 16-year-old Miley tore onto the stage looking more like a Vegas stripper than the Disney darling we were anticipating. In front of an arena of screaming little girls and their horrified mothers. Like a stripper. What?!

We should've left from the start, but those tickets were 100 bucks a pop, and Ella would have been destroyed. So, we stayed. We stayed through countless wardrobe changes...I mean, what's a girl to do with all of these hooker clothes and nowhere to go? We watched as this Disney pop princess writhed around on stage like the best dancers at Platinum Plus. We paid 50 bucks for a soda and some stale popcorn and witnessed, with mouths agape, the spectacle before us. With a clear aversion to pants or anything to cover her ladybits, save her gross brother's tidy whities, ole Miley brought shameless, scanitly-clad shock and awe with each song she belted out. And my sweet Ella, with her big, blue inquisitive eyes, looked up at me and asked, "Mommy, what's she wearing?" To be honest, I wasn't sure how to answer, because most of her outfits looked like S&M costumes. So, I just said, "I don't know, baby, but I can assure you it's not something you will ever wear."

The whole time, I was thinking, "Where the hell is her mother? Dear Jesus, someone save this poor girl." Of course, a 15-year-old Miley had appeared mostly nude on a magazine cover shot by Annie Leibovitz, so someone had to okay that, right? Someone like her parents. You have to wonder what these people are thinking to let their kids do this. But, it's not hard to figure out that she's a cash cow and their garish exploitation of this girl, their daughter, has made them millions. And in this regard, it's no surprise that their son was singing salacious, suggestive lyrics to little girls.

This makes me want to really put my Ella in a tower just like Rapunzel. We always joked about it when she was first born, but now I'm starting to think maybe that's not such a bad idea after all. Keep her safe, healthy, clean. Let her down after she's finished a great post-doctoral education. Find her a nice, proper fella (who's been tested for everything) with an established career for her to marry (the older she gets, the more I'm thinking that arranged marriages are okay). No parties with bad decisions. No temptations. No harm. Right? Can't I have it this way? Can't I always protect my baby girl? Shelter her from the big, bad world? I'm gonna guess that my parents will find this ironic and hilarious. I know they'll tell me that I'm in big trouble and that I can expect none of this to ever happen.

 Well, I can love her and try.