For all the beautiful things about us, thank you moms
In the childhood memories of almost all of us, there is this sacred image of a mother in front of her mirror. Her way of putting on lipstick, the fine mist of perfume or hairspray she used to wrap herself in, the gesture of her hand to shape a hair strand. These codes of femininity that fascinated us, this mystery from which we were excluded because of our young age, these rituals that we mimicked – the same that our mother had perhaps inherited – we wanted so much to make them ours. Everything in the woman is a riddle, said Nietszche and it is this mystery that we tried to catch with our little fingers, rummaging through her drawers, searching in her purse, stealing a lipstick or a mascara.
She gave me all of her best beauty secrets and for that, I am grateful.
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In imitation or opposition, moms help us to find our own beauty
Then came the day when our mother, who has told us throughout our childhood "you'll understand when you're a woman", suddenly says "you're a woman, now", while we have not perceived the slightest change in ourselves. Have we missed something here? Once again, we can’t get the great mystery of femininity. So we seek help from others, our friends, our crew, our BFF or social networks. Come adolescence and the oedipal rivalry. We assert our individuality, beauty is earned by the differentiation. Being scandalous is not a problem until we don’t look like our mother!
Like mothers, like daughters: beauty is a thread between generations
As time passes, comes the point when we rediscover our image in the gaze of a lover and then, perhaps, in the astonished eyes of a little one when it is our turn to become a mother. Unconsciously, we mimic the gesture our mother had to spread a lock of hair or spray perfume on her wrists. We did not escape the transmission, the habitus of which spoke the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu. The identity has profoundly rooted, the beauty is perpetuated and it is much more than just the choice of a shade of nail polish or the make-up of our eyes. It's a question of attitude, a way of being in the world. “Mom, I have your cheekbones, your mole on the nose, but also – depending on the story – your humor, your courage, your modesty or your rebellious spirit.”
For all the beauty I borrowed. Moms are the best.
Are mothers the only models of beauty?
Mom, are you the only one to transmit the essence of the womanhood? No, would say an orphan who has been inspired by an aunt or a beloved teacher. No, thinks another, who takes her self-confidence from the forever loving gaze of her two very proud fathers. No, laughs this young métis girl whose white mother never knew how to take care of her frizzy hair. No, concludes this last one who had to give up the make-up education of a “tomboy” mother. The feminine is unfathomable, this “dark continent” of which Freud spoke, this obscure zone that is not limited to appearance and that we each build in our own way, taking our cues from figures that are not exclusively maternal.
Your beauty helped me find mine. Thanks, Mom, for everything.
Why keeping saying "Happy Mother's Day
Everyone has their own journey, everyone has their own relationship with their mother, everyone has their own vision of Mother's Day. But when one day in the year, we are given the opportunity to thank the person who has nurtured our sense of beauty, whether it is a mother or any other person who is acting as, why do without? Mother's day is back. And that simply means give back, love back.
All of the beautiful things about me, I owe to my mother.
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Because I owe you every beautiful day of my life, happy Mother’s Day, Mom!