Having a daughter (or four) makes me think about what hang-ups I have that I don't want my daughters to have. Body issues, low self-esteem, perfectionism, martyr syndrome? I don't want to infect them with any of that garbage. What if I'm contagious? How do I avoid it?
Watching my kids go through puberty has been freaky. I've read that Barry White's voice went from little boy to the full Barry White overnight. He said he woke up and said something mundane, like "good morning," to his mom, and they both almost died of shock.
My oldest daughter turned sixteen a couple of weeks ago. I never felt like she favored me heavily, looks-wise, when she was younger. But, somehow, upon reaching a semblance of maturity, my face just popped into being on her body. So. Weird. Like, so, weird.
I have never been that fond of my face. I have okay eyes and eyebrows, my nose is too big, and my mouth is too small. All features are overwhelmed by my soft, chubby cheeks. I had sort of an eating disorder when I was nine or ten, and even then, my face was round and soft, atop a skinny little malnourished body.
But then my face appeared on my daughter. She's got blue eyes and paler skin, but we look a lot alike now. Enough so that Facebook tries to tag us as each other occasionally. You know what? My daughter is gorgeous. I can't hate my face anymore, because it's also her face. How would she feel if I talked about being fugly (you know, fat and ugly...) when my face is so like hers?
Art History Sunday: The Blind Girl
8 years ago
