Well, if you've been under a blogging rock lately, you'll not know that Jodie from Mummymayhem has started a bit of an anti-makeup for a day revolution in the blogosphere. Hear-hear, I say! Jodie wrote:
Here's what I propose. This Friday 14 May, I am going to proclaim it "Bloggers Without Makeup Day", but open to bloggers and tweeps. I'm going to use the above photo on my Twitter account ALL DAY on Friday. I'm going to put a trending topic attached to it, #BloggersWithoutMakeup, and I'm going to show all of you the real me and, in turn, perhaps practice a bit of what I preach. If you have a blog, you could also post a pic like mine on your blog (if you dare) and tweet it on Friday.
Not that I am hard-pressed to think of a day where I get made up anymore, but I don't have too many photos of me in all my 'nekid' glory. So what better way to show my flaws than in full flash photography, eyebrows-akimbo to boot. All's I can say is.... THANK GOD IT'S NOT A HORMONAL TIME OF MONTH for this particular photo challenge, or else you'd be treated to some mighty blemishes. This was taken by the Lady of the Manor herself, my very own LGBB, over a spot of afternoon tea (which I am in mid-chew with here):
And here's a very worn-looking Mama and Papa taking a naff family portrait in her bedroom:
In all seriousness, though, this exercise has given me pause to stop and consider how my daughter sees me. How I see myself. How she sees society.
I am very zealous when it comes to protecting my young charge from the desensitised nudity, body imagery and general Ick factor of video clips (to name just one media platform). It is very, very rare that she even hears commercial radio and the lyrics of mainstream songs, let alone seeing them in all their glory on screen. Mind you, she has taken a shine to this song - from hearing it a couple of times a week in the car when her Dad invariably switches stations during their swimming jaunts - and I admit to finding it very cute to hearing her sing along to the chorus, word perfect:
The relationship I have with my daughter, while very flowing and organic and as open as I can make it, has not yet extended into discussions about her outer beauty. I think, as any parent would, that she has stunning beauty. In spades. And I gather that, to me and her Dad, she will continue to shine her own brand of pure ethereal beauty which will dull all around her in comparison. That's just the way I think it goes, isn't it? So I haven't yet been thrown into the deep end of any curly situations regarding how she sees herself or needed to deflect any peers' remarks about her appearance.
Mind you, we do have a bit of a fashion-conscious glamour doll on our hands, I think. Despite me not being able to slap together a decent outfit two days in a row to save my good self, our little almost-4-year-old has made a bit of a name for herself (with friends' parents, her kindergarten teachers and the carers at her occasional care centre) as a walking runway model. She likes to match and contrast everything she wears. Blinding fury occurs if I deny her the use of a particular skirt that should go with "THAT TOP, MUMMEEEEEEE! NOOOOOO!" So while there has not been much emphasis yet on how her actual face looks, brave is the parent in this house who denies the child her chosen outfit. Fark. That is just not a war I am willing to have.
The kid gets to wear what she wants, as long as it's weather-appropriate.
I worry. I honestly do worry about what is to come for the LGBB, especially once she begins school. Will I have been remiss in not building up her image-based self esteem? Will I regret not telling her she is beautiful every day? Will she continue to go along the path that she appears to be on - that of, not really caring what people think of her looks - but will her current obsession with her clothes transfer or build into being also about "what her mama gave her"? Ugh. I could go on and on about the ways I am afraid. Instead, I'm going to liberate myself a bit further and go and check out my unsightly bits in the mirror and embrace them (figuratively).
No photos on that subject matter, peeps. No sirree, not even if you paid me. 'Night!
