You never saw her in denim. How then do you say you know her?

When she was with you, you demanded that she be the way you wanted her. For four or five years she lived to conform. She saw the bar you raised and chose to fly higher than its requirement for flight. Nothing you threw her way was too much or too high to scale. You said, “Do not eat.” she chose not to eat. You said, “Do not go.” She chose not to go. Everything you said not to do, she didn’t. Everything you required she do, she did. They did not make her. They did not recreate her. They only postponed her.
Now she is who she wants to find herself. She pulls on what she feels like. She goes where she pleases. She associates with those that she chooses. All you can do is hope she will let some of your ideas guide her choices. You have no guarantees. The life she lived when she was with you is so behind her. The person she was at that time, she is no more. When she was with you you preempted her choices. Now she has to make them and you are no favorite recourse for counsel or advice.
Perhaps you should have allowed her her denim. Perhaps you should have guided her choices while leaving her with the real choice to choose or refuse. You did not. She gathered her skirts about her; she tucked in her belly; she bent her neck and her back that she might fit in. Now she does not have to. She has removed the kinks from her body and the wrinkles from her clothes.
You never saw her in denim. How then can you say you know her?