Fret About The Other Side

“No woman is ever happy with her boobs or her hair,” observed a friend of mine as
we tried on t-shirts advertising an upcoming event we’re working on together. And
she’s right. Those with curly hair want it straight. As my Drybar stylist noted when I went last… okay, earlier today, “If a woman walks in with her hair au natural, I can tell exactly what she is going to want – the opposite of what she has when she walks in ”.For a couple of years, I indulged in Brazilian Blowouts and Keratin treatments which left me looking more coiffed but also took a heavy toll on my tresses – is there anything in this life that can just be all good? Thus I stopped plying my hair with all those chemicals. But returning to my naturally curly hair has been arduous; my normally dry hair has been bleached for decades and so is more damaged than the average post-Keratin curls and thus looks more like a bad ‘Jewfro’, or parched Chia Pet than a chic crown of curls. This sad, parched state leads me to wear my hair in ponytail most of the time. Except when I go to Drybar… so I’m thinking about indulging in Keratin again, presuming that I will end up with any hair in my head if my stylist does this.

Is everything in nature ironic? Those who are small-breasted want bigger boobs. I am stacked – and yet could only nurse my children for three months each as I ran dry. Useless udders, my breasts are. Which is a real pity as I enjoyed announcing, “It’s Titty Time” – usually to no one in particular – when I was about to nurse. And then there is gravity and the fear that this force inflicts on my knees. “Oh heavens, they’re coming at us – run!” I imagine these joints screaming in my old age. I want smaller breasts – yet another reason to diet – but even then, I’m still endowed. 

I am envious of the women on nearby treadmills who can run faster and better than I with only a Lululemon built-in bra to protect their breasts from bouncing everywhere. And yet, when I talk to some of these beautiful, toned gals they tell me I’m lucky that I have large breasts.

Is everything in women’s nature ironic? Is it just me? My friends? Will I ever be happy with myself or will I go to my grave thinking I could still improve?  

I don’t want my daughter to feel this way – I want her to enjoy herself just the way she is so that she cares for herself with love. I tell her, “You know you’re beautiful, but so what?”  Naturally, she grunts in reply.

I want to pound this message into her head because the most beautiful women are those who are comfortable in their own skin – and tweak what they were born with from love of what they have, not the desire to create themselves in a different, usually opposite, image. I want my daughter to feel beautiful always – and then not give a hoot about her good looks because those girls who are comfortable walking into any room with or without make up, in jeans or an evening gown, those are the girls who people admire in school — and the woman who owns a room in life.

“Mom, I want to try a Brazilian Blow Out,” my daughter announced as she got into the car at pickup, once she noticed my hair had been blown straight thanks to the easy-to-get-addicted-to Drybar.
“But your hair is already straight,” I replied.
“I know, it just sounds cool,” she smiled in reply before drifting to another topic.

Trying a fad because it sounds cool not because you want to change yourself… maybe my daughter is listening to me after all.