Judging you, Loving you

Your hair looks poor. You have a deadlock. It looks ratty. Yes, I KNOW I had dreadlocks before. That was before I reentered the real world and now we are in it, and I can’t stand to see you, in a gaggle of girls your age, be the ONE with the poor, poor, snarly hair. It is our give away.

Like my shitty blonde hair was a giveaway for a few years Look! I’m so poor I am bleaching my own dark brown hair to a cat-piss blonde. So sad.

Mortifying in hindsight.

I am our own worst critic, but that’s because I was so bullied at your age, kiddo. I know you don’t live that life but I am s0 afraid it will happen to you, beautiful, thin, pretty and nice as you are…having snarly hair just might be your achilles heel.

And the one thing that might be more painful than the  loneliness I felt all through my teenage years, would be to watch you go through it.

Sometimes, we create, conjure, the things we are most afraid of. We eat all the cake because we are afraid of having one piece. I tell you how ratty you look, before someone else does. But, that doesn’t make it easy for you to hear, and maybe if I were a better mother, I would never have let one god damn snarl cling to you, and you’d be perfectly groomed and would not have nails bitten to the quick, and we would always have party shoes ready.

And there would be parties.

 

***short rant, don’t take this too seriously, sometimes I write to rid.

 

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