In Which My Mom Tells Me I Need to Wear a Bow


Dear Mom,
I understand that when you tell me that I need to get rid of my huge, clunky shoes and wear some Crocs and put a bow in my hair, you’re only trying to help me. I apologize for the disappointment I’ve been to you. I know that both you and Dad were Beautiful People and it must have disappointing that when you mixed his blonde/blue eyed genes with your raven haired/emerald eyed genes and came out with a brown haired kid with grayish-turquoise eyes. It must have been truly horrifying to find that you were capable of producing an apparently average looking human being. I don’t know how I understand this about you and Dad because when I look at my own children I see their beauty and not their flaws. I guess that is something I learned from you, only it was a reverse lesson.
Just in case you were serious about my need for a bow, here are a couple of photos of me with bows. I think they look stupid on me. Martina, on the other hand, looks precious in bows.

Also, what do you expect me to wear to the barn other than cowboy boots? You know, those huge, clunky shoes that I wore to your house the last time we came by and which you made a special phone call to complain about? They are top-of-the-line! The-latest-style in boots for the Western horsewoman! I don’t feel safe handling horses wearing Crocs. AND I think Crocs are ugly, not cute. They are comfortable, I’ll give you that. In fact, I wore them yesterday to butcher chickens. You would have been proud. My Crocs are red, to match the bow in my hair.
All of these years when I’ve made sure to wear my Good Clothes and put on make up (I learned to do that at Charm School, you know, well…probably you don’t because you were too busy with your own life to know I went there) and jewelry when I come to visit you or Dad has apparently been a waste. I suppose there isn’t much to lessen the blow of Brown Hair…well, I could dye it but I like my hair.
Just so you know, there’s another lesson I learned from you: The Vanity Lesson. I do not want to be that woman who wears make up and poofs up her hair each day only to run out in an emergency and find that not even her closest friends can recognize her because they thought she was pretty when really she’s hideous–or just average–and it was all hidden under make up and big hair. I’d rather have compliments on how nice I look when I get dressed up and be surprisingly attractive occasionally.
So, in short, I feel pretty good about myself even though you don’t. Strange isn’t it?
Love,
Tina

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About Blue Eagle Dreamer

Shamanic High Priestess and facilitator of empowerment and healing circles for girls and women, including a monthly Red Tent Temple. BA in English, minor in anthropology. Waldorf homeschool mom. Reiki master, cranial sacral therapist, herbalist, menstruvist, feminist, epicurian.
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