let lemons be angry

Beauty and Mothers.

Not a very flattering shot for either of us, but the only one on my dad's computer.

I don't know what I would look like if my mother hadn't been around all my life. I've said before that I'm not dressing the way I feel inside; largely because my mother edits my wardrobe, pushes me to dress for my body type, skin color, and age.

Words that have shaped my life include:
"You need a waist."
"Yes, those shoes are too flat."
"I know what you're trying to do, the natural look, but please draw more eyeliner."
"Today you look like a small kid!"
"Women like us need makeup. Like Zoe Tay, she needs makeup."
"Watch, when you turn 28, you will suddenly dress like a kid."
"Shall we dye your hair tonight?"
"Because you weren't around to stop me, I bought this for you."

And because of these words, I have looked better, acquiring a waist, having noticeable eyes, looking more proportionate, and everything my own eyes cannot judge. In the same breath, I have come to not be able to see what I look like, judging instead only what my makeup looks like. And I've come to care more about what looks good on me, rather than what I feel like wearing.

In turn, I contribute to the discourse on her daily outfits. People wonder what we talk about, she the famous speaker on campus who people come to for mentorship and counselling. Yes, we do talk about the Bible and God and all the important stuff. But every morning, it's more likely to be "Should I wear this necklace?" "Quick, tell me what shoes I should wear!" or "Look at my new eyeshadow."

My mother turned me into an incurable vainpot. But when I tell her so, she says, "You influenced me ah! Before you were born I didn't care about such things!"