Somehow, I now have a daughter in year 5. This is unnervingly close to the edge of primary school.
Sporting her new highly coveted Hype backpack, she marched through the school gates with best friend Sophie*, (*name changed for anonymity), barely stopping to let me kiss her goodbye.
I spent about eight minutes peering through the gates trying to spot her, but every second child seemed to have her exact hair and backpack. Reassuring myself that she did in fact walk through the gates, and would now be sat in her new classroom, I peeled myself away. Walking home, I reflected on how grown up she seemed now and had a moment of sadness that my little girl wasn’t quite so little anymore.
She recently asked if I could buy her some deodorant. “Sophie wears deodorant..”.
“Of course..” I replied.
“Sophie has this eyebrow gel brush thing and I tried it and it made my eyebrows look slick.”
“Well it sounds like you know what you’re doing, maybe you could show me, my eyebrows need taming.” I joked, amused that my nine year old had better eyebrow styling skills than me.
Every now and again, when the topic of eyebrows arises, I have to gently remind (beg) her to please not go near her perfect untouched eyebrows without me present. It’d be all too easy for her to grab my tweezers from the bathroom cabinet and start yanking out hairs on a whim. I speak of course from my own experience and self-imposed trauma.
At 12, I managed to remove roughly 50% of my eyebrows, they were halved in thickness…and length. It was nothing short of an aesthetic disaster and no daughter of mine (or anyone really) should have to go through that.
She went on to describe other magical tools and products in Sophie’s make-up collection, then asked if we could go and buy some make-up.
“Not yet, at some point..”. I said, attempting conviction.
I’d found myself navigating a completely new territory and determined not to say anything that might put her off sharing her new experiences with me. Highlighter? For the face? The only highlighter she’d ever used was the fluorescent ink kind and this was as it should be. The thought of her having even a vague desire to turn her beautiful face into something fake and filtered she’d seen online sent shivers down my spine. But this was a line I’d have to tread carefully. Even at this early pre-teen stage, any hint of resistance from me could backfire. I was to remain open-minded and curious…
“But no foundation EVER, your skin is LITERALLY PERFECT MAIA.” I wanted to shout.
We’ll have the make-up conversation at some point (most likely repeatedly) and I’ll have to decide what exactly is allowed and when. I can’t recall my mum ever regulating my make-up usage as a teenager, though some intervening in my haphazard eyebrow-activity might’ve been appropriate. (Not that it would’ve gone down well.)
For now, she’s stuck with the same kids eye-shadow palette and a box of my old lipsticks. I’m happy for her to experiment with colours and play with make-up, I did the same at her age and it was all about having fun, not enhancing my appearance. It’s this playful, creative attitude to make-up and fashion that I want to encourage.
But also, an innate knowing that she is of course beautiful as she is, and make-up, as fun as it can be, is absolutely not a necessity.
The Colourful Kind 