From the earliest memories I have of my mother, I can always remember her telling me how beautiful and smart I was.
Nevertheless, I grew up to become a very awkward, chubby, and self-conscious pre-teen.. I had huge issues with the way I looked, and no matter what my mother said, it never changed the way I saw myself in the mirror.
I began telling myself, “She’s wrong. I’m not beautiful.. I’m so far from perfect.”
My pre-teen years went by, along with the even more awkward teenage years, and became less and less important, as my mother always said they would.. and she was right, as usual.. and I finally grew up, found a man, and became pregnant with my first child, a little girl.
I became closer with my mother through those months, apologizing for everything I had said, and didn’t mean… for now, I was going to mother a daughter.. and couldn’t fathom how it would make me feel.
I told her, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen, when you told me I was perfect, it means more to me now…”
She replied, with “I never told you that you were perfect.. I said you were beautiful. I would never want you to be perfect, perfect is boring.”
Those words have stuck with me over the past few years… my daughter is now a beautiful, energetic 5 year old with an amazing 2 year old brother.
I’m doing my best to pass on the wisdom that my mother gave to me.. even if it takes her 10 , or 15 years to realize what it means… I don’t want her to reach desperately for the impossible, perfection. I want her to find beauty in imperfection.. because that kind of beauty is original.. it has a story, a past, and it’s anything but boring.