From the moment I hit 9 years old, I became a walking advertisement for the perils of home perms. My mom, exhausted from wrestling with my fine, unruly hair—which was about as manageable as a cloud—decided to take matters into her own hands. The result? A hairdo that could only be described as Chia Pet chic during the Reagan era. I endured a routine that involved pink rollers so tight my scalp felt like it was auditioning for a horror film. The smell of the chemicals? Let’s just say it was enough to make anyone gag. And after the dreaded rinse in the kitchen sink, I would gaze at my newly styled curls in the mirror and think, “Well, this is the best we can do.”
Unbeknownst to my mother, the underlying message I absorbed was that something was inherently wrong with me—specifically my hair. I accepted this idea without question, leading me to keep perming my hair into a frizzy disaster well into adulthood, all while embracing the belief that my natural state was simply unacceptable.
Fast forward to now, and I strive to avoid sending similar hidden messages to my daughters. It’s a challenge! Sometimes, I can’t help but slip in a comment that might be perceived as critical. It’s crucial to pause and think about how our words will be interpreted.
What I Said vs. What My Daughter Heard
What I said: “Are you really going to wear those green plaid shorts with that pink-and-black zebra stripe shirt? Maybe reconsider?” [Bites lip.] “Alright then.”
What my daughter heard: “You think my outfit is hideous, and I’m too inexperienced to choose my own clothes.”
What I said: “That side ponytail is a little… unkempt.”
What my daughter heard: “You think my hairstyle is ridiculous.”
What I said: “I can see your butt crack in those jeans.”
What my daughter heard: “You think I’m too heavy for my pants.”
What I said: “When did you last wash your hair? Just wondering.”
What my daughter heard: “All I do is criticize you.”
What I said: “Your friend wears her cutoffs a bit higher than most.”
What my daughter heard: “You think my friend is inappropriate or even… slutty.”
What I said: “If you saved your allowance like your sister instead of splurging, you could buy that cool new Lego set.”
What my daughter heard: “You think your sister is superior, and maybe you love her more too.”
These are just a few examples. I admit, I sometimes weigh in on my daughters’ fashion choices, friendships, and habits, even if I try to soften my true thoughts. Guidance is a vital part of parenting, but there’s a thin line between being helpful and sounding overly critical. Our kids often accept our evaluations as gospel truth, even when they roll their eyes.
As I carefully comb through the tangles in my youngest daughter’s fine, perpetually knotty hair after her shower, I have to suppress the urge to shout, “Let’s just chop it off already!” While I may not love the tangles, her hair is uniquely hers, and it’s perfect just the way it is. When it comes to my daughters’ true selves, I wouldn’t change a thing.
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Summary
This article highlights the vast difference between the messages parents think they are conveying to their children and how those messages are actually interpreted. It emphasizes the importance of being mindful of our words, as children often internalize criticisms, leading them to feel inadequate. Ultimately, acceptance of our kids just as they are is vital to their self-esteem.