I wished for my daughter to be beautiful. I even asked the universe for specific traits: golden blonde hair, sparkling blue or green eyes, a radiant smile, and an adorable little nose. In my mind, I could see her as a mini version of a Hollywood starlet, and I would rub my belly while whispering “Cameron Diaz.”
Growing up in sunny Northern California, I was surrounded by a sea of blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls who epitomized the all-American beauty ideal. As a first-generation American with European ancestry, I inherited distinct, angular features that set me apart. As a tall girl with dark hair and broad shoulders, I often felt like the odd one out in group photos. I found myself cast as the villain in school plays, teased for my looks, and sometimes told I was too unattractive to even attend school. Teenagers can be incredibly harsh, especially when the standard of beauty in the 90s was sky-high. Perfection ruled on TV screens; models had that flawless button nose, luscious lips, and an ideal figure that felt utterly unattainable.
After high school, I tried everything to conform to this beauty standard and boost my self-esteem. I dyed my hair blonde, donned bright pink outfits, and perfected the art of self-tanning. I slimmed down to a size 4 and slathered on lip gloss that a makeup artist called “provocative.” I buried the memory of my former self, and it wasn’t until my mid-20s that I finally started to embrace my unique features. I learned to appreciate what I once considered flaws and began to enhance the aspects of myself that reflected true beauty.
I always envisioned having two children, a girl and a boy, so I was thrilled when the doctor announced we were expecting a daughter. However, the news stirred up insecurities I thought I had moved past. On our drive home, I squeezed my husband’s hand and said, “You’re going to be such a wonderful dad. I hope our daughter is healthy, strong, and just a little bit of a handful, like you.” He smiled and replied, “I hope she’s brave and funny, and looks just like you.” To my surprise, that statement filled me with anger. I shot back, “No! Please, not like me.”
Eventually, guilt crept in for caring so much about my daughter’s looks. I confided in my best friends, who were all blonde beauties. One shared that she never realized her own beauty and often labeled herself “the ugly one” in our friend group. Another admitted to feeling immense pressure to be perfect, often driving herself crazy trying to meet everyone’s expectations. It dawned on me that even my stunning friends harbored insecurities similar to mine.
Then my wish came true: my daughter is healthy, clever, funny, and a spirited little troublemaker. She is lean and petite, boasting golden blonde hair and the most mesmerizing blue eyes. I adore every part of her, and she doesn’t resemble me at all.
Raising a “pretty girl” will undoubtedly be an adventure. People often stop us to compliment her looks, but I know I must guide her through the complexities of insecurity, self-esteem, and heartbreak. I genuinely believe my daughter is the most beautiful person on earth, inside and out, and I am committed to helping her see that too. However, I understand she might feel skeptical, just as I did about my mother’s compliments.
I hope she learns to appreciate the beauty in others without feeling the need to compare herself. I want her to speak out against comments about appearance, because I’ve realized that beautiful girls don’t need that negativity either. While I’ve read articles emphasizing the importance of praising daughters for their intellect, humor, and creativity rather than their looks (which I do), I still make it a point to tell her she’s beautiful every day. I want her to truly know and feel it.
After spending so much energy wishing for her outward beauty, I’ve come to understand that she would have been beautiful regardless of how she looked, even if she had inherited my features. For more insights on parenting and self-image, you can explore this other blog post here. If you’re interested in at-home insemination options, check out the fertility booster kits available at Make a Mom. Also, for those seeking more information on home insemination and pregnancy, the Johns Hopkins Fertility Center provides excellent resources.
In summary, my journey through insecurities and beauty standards has shaped my approach to parenting my daughter. I am dedicated to helping her navigate the complexities of self-image while ensuring she understands her true worth.
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