Pretty

Dear Lulu,

Wearing makeup has never been a big deal to me.  My mom has never worn makeup.  She has never owned makeup in my lifetime.  When I was little I always wanted to have play makeup, but my mom wouldn’t let me.  Ponies, Barbies, and a multitude of other girly things were okay, but never makeup.

When I was thirteen she decided I could wear makeup, but I had to buy it with my own money.  Thirteen is an awful age to go through as a child, and  I am sure it is just as bad for the mother.  (I guess I will find out in ten years.)  Anyway, at thirteen I went and I bought some powder and eye shadow and blush, and I’m sure I made myself look like a clown.  You see – my mother never wore makeup.  I had no one to teach me how to apply it.

I did eventually figure it out, but in all honesty, makeup has never been a big deal to me.  I wear it when I want to look especially nice – when I go out at night or on days that I am feeling a little blah.  Truth be told, I would rather get an extra 15 minutes of sleep every morning then put makeup on.  No one seems bothered by my bare face.

Do I look better with makeup on?  Probably.  Do I feel better with makeup on?  Not usually.  I feel better with that extra 15 minutes of sleep!

I am telling you this because lately you have taken an interest in my “beauty routine”.  If I put on lip balm you want some “lips” too.  When I use body spray you “need some”.  Powder and blush are demanded as well.  And I have no problem with you taking an interest in these things.  I bought you your very own Lip Smacker (because as a 32-year-old I think they are the best chapstick ever).  I will poke your nose with my powder puff and pretend to put blush on your cheeks.  You like being a part of what I am doing and I hope you always will.

But this morning, after I bopped your adorable nose with my puff, you said something that I had hoped I would never hear from your lips.  As you gazed into the mirror you smiled your dimpled smile and said, “Now I’m pretty!”

The words echoed in my head, and I swear my heart stopped beating for a second.

No no NO baby!  You are three years old.  This is NOT the lesson I am teaching you.  This is NOT what I want you to learn from watching me get ready in the morning.  This is NOT what you are to take from my powder bops and blush dabs.  Your worth is not and will never be based on your prettiness.  Makeup does not make a woman pretty.  Makeup might make a woman feel better about herself, but it does not define who she is or what she is capable of.  Women do not need makeup to be pretty.  Repeat this with me… Women DO NOT need makeup to be pretty.

Confidence makes a woman pretty.  Kindness makes a woman pretty.  Intelligence makes a woman pretty.  Love makes a woman pretty.

So, my darling blonde haired, blue-eyed, dimpled little girl… you are the prettiest creature in the whole world.  All on your own.  And don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

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Four Weeks into Graduate School, and thirteen things I have learned

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  1. Women who are able to do everything are wizards.
  2. Wizards don’t exist.
  3. Math isn’t hard, but finding the motivation to study math is.
  4. Statistics is math.
  5. Statistics is hard.
  6. I need to study logic.
  7. I have no idea what the hell I am doing.
  8. I miss sewing.
  9. Three year olds do not care if you are trying to read.  They want you to be present in their world.  All the time.  No matter what.
  10. Reading your chapter before starting your homework assignment is a better approach to learning than the opposite.
  11. I hate cleaning, but when faced with cleaning vs statistics, cleaning is usually the victor.
  12. I have no idea what the hell I am doing.
  13. I can do this.

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