I remember when I was growing up my mother wouldn’t even go to the grocery store without her lipstick on. Going outside of the house meant that you had to look your best, and apparently to feel your best that meant slapping on the war paint, too. I’ve always liked makeup, but more because I am creative and like the way my face looks once I’ve decorated my eyes just the way I like. But with as busy as my life has become—working, parenthood, daily activities, makeup is really the last thing on my mind. Then there is the subject of hair, which 99% of the time I brush out of the shower and that is it. When I think of the way my mother was when I was a child, I could not be any more different from her when it comes to a “beauty” routine. I lack a routine, and while I still take pride in my appearance, I don’t value it the way she did. And I know that there are many other mothers out there like me, the “simple moms” of the world.
While it’s nice to get dolled up every so often, I am happy—and I’m realizing thankful—that I am not obsessed with looks or makeup, fancy clothes or plastic surgery. It’s important to me that I feel good on the inside, and when I feel beautiful underneath my skin this can transcend to the outside. I’ve changed a lot since becoming a parent, and I’m sure that other mothers out there feel the same way. But sometimes change can be a very good, and much needed, thing. Changing for the better is sometimes just about a shift in priorities. I used to care a lot about the way I looked, very self-involved and fussy over certain things being perfect. As a mother to two daughters, it’s very important to me to create what the idea of beauty is really about in their impressionable minds. Of course I praise my children, and tell them that they are beautiful, but I focus on the other things that make them so special and truly unique.
When I was growing up, the only praise I received from my mother was aesthetic. You’re so pretty, or you’re so beautiful, etc., etc. By the time I reached my teenage years I really wished that there were others things that she had told me to build my self-confidence. I wanted to hear that I was smart, and funny, that I had a kind heart, or that I was unique. My father would always comment on the things that I wanted to hear, and my mother would only comment on beauty. But to me, beauty didn’t matter. Because of this I feel—well, know—that it seriously distorted my perception of beauty. I am very fortunate to have a pretty face, but what is pretty if you aren’t beautiful on the inside? For my daughters, I tell them all of the things that I wish I could have heard from the woman who meant more to me then anyone else. And hopefully one day they will thank me when they grow older, and look back and are thankful for the mom who didn’t care about wearing lipstick or styling her hair to perfection–because for her, beauty was what was on the inside that mattered most.
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