Growing up I always knew that my Mother was a very pretty woman. Former model, she looked different than my friends Mom’s. She was tall, thin, blonde, had her nails done, tan and dressed 10 years younger than what she was. Mom never seemed to fit in with the other Mothers, I remember her trying hard when there was a school event, to dress more “Mom-like” and she’d try to fit in. She could never understand how some women could let themselves go when they had a family. Then again… Mom just had me (at the time).
I can attribute my attitude to the way I keep myself up to my Mom. She wasn’t nearly as prissy as I am, but she still took care of herself and always looked good. Mom put alot of importance on hands, even if you spent all day scrubbing bathrooms, your hands still needed to look like you hadn’t lifted a finger. Same went for the way you presented yourself in public, it was never neccessary to look like a slob. Even when we were broke (deffination: digging in the sofa for loose coins to find enough to buy a can of soup for dinner or gas money) Mom did what she could to keep up her looks. I remember her teaching herself how to do her own artificial nails so she could do it herself. I remember her even when her clothes were not in style, they were still clean and pressed and accessoried the best she could. Mom never used being broke as an excuse, she saw it as a challenge and did her damnest to beat it.
Well tonight Mom and Dad came by for a few minutes before they headed to the Navy Ball. Mom looked incredibly skinny in the red dress that hung on her body. Due to a mirgraine I didn’t get over to her house to do her makeup as I had promised I would (need the practice working on other people) and I did some cosmetic touchups. Under the harsh light and heavy foundation I could see how much my Mom had aged. Years of sunworshiping has taken a toll on her skin, making her skin look her age. My Mom has never looked her age untill the past year or so and she’s gotten pretty close. Her height had shrunk to the point where the dress that had been perfect in length a few years ago, was now too long. I saw my Mother aged, and it pained me. She’s still beautiful, still slender, still blonde. No longer tan because she realized too late that it only aged her skin. Now instead of tall, she’s average. But she’s still my beautiful Mom.
It was a moment of realization that we all age, we all get older. There’s no stopping it. It was also a moment of reflection of being proud that she is my Mom, and proud that I am the kid with the pretty Mom.