I don't mean she didn't tell me at all. She did, when I needed to hear it, or when I was dressed particularly well. "You look nice." "That's a pretty dress on you." And when I was upset, "You're pretty, you're smart, you're talented..." But I never heard it all the time. And in fact, when I wanted to hear it, I usually had to get it out of her with a "Come on, Mom, tell me I look nice. Go ahead, I want to hear it." And all I ever got was a "You look very pretty," and then she was back to whatever she was doing.
And I want to say thank you.
On this, the day I celebrate being alive for 23 years, I want to say thank you for letting me learn to accept myself. She's always told me that she didn't fawn because of the "evil eye", a superstition that most of us would dismiss. And whether that's true or not, I thank her for letting me come to terms with who I am, for letting me strive to be more than just nice-looking. For letting me hit the ground, and get back up with dirt on my face. For letting me fail, and not consoling me with physical beauty, but telling me to try again. For giving me the chance of self-validation, and learning to search inside myself for strength and self-esteem.
For letting me look in the mirror and see a whole person, not just a pretty face.
Thanks Mom, for not telling me I'm beautiful.
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