Self-image

My mom has never told me I was beautiful. Ever. Or, at least, not that I can recall. She never set any criteria of (more or less attainable) beauty to aspire for, never engaged in self-praising nor underestimating based on her looks, and rarely did I hear her loose a comment on someone's appearance at all. It doesn't come as a surprise that shopping sprees and make-up counseling, as seen on American TV, have not made it to our list of quality time activities spent ensemble. 

It would be a lie to say that it didn't bother me at times. Facing my outlooks out on the world often got me wonder how does she really perceive me (meaning, evaluating as objectively as a mother towards her offspring can get, cause I guess mothers find their kids beautiful by default, no matter what, right?). Basically, I wanted her to boost my delicate self-confidence with flatter based on my appearance, as picked up from watching around, which by means of achieving no success turned into modus operandi of me silently crying out for her compliments yet pretending otherwise. 

My mom nevertheless preserved the course. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but now I cannot be more grateful. I finally come to realize that she, in her very subtle and inconspicuous manner effectively managed to distort an ubiquitous “self-worth vs. beauty” pressure burdening women since forever and turned it into a non-issue. Might be a small leap for a mankind, but as a lesson for me - priceless.

Thank you mom.  Love you.