In my mind, I am a fairly confident person. I feel like I’m pretty self assured and comfortable in who I am. Was this always the case? Teenage me would tell you most certainly not. Thirty something me says, meh does it matter?
While I would love to lose ten pounds (okay twenty…all right, all right fifty and some change), my body carried two healthy babies to term and then delivered them without pain meds. I like to think that makes me a confident badass (actually, anyone who’s been pregnant is a badass to me). Today, my oldest son said something to me that made me pause. It made me start to wonder if I am really as sure of myself as I think.
My husband and I have differing days off. When he is home on Saturdays and Sundays, he has the boys to himself.
Rabbit trail: Scott and Jaxen are identical in personality and thought processing. This leads to a stubborn perfectionist trying to get another stubborn perfectionist to do what he wants. I’ll let you decide which one is which.
This particular Saturday, I arrive home from work to be greeted by a grinning Hunter and a very sad Jaxen. The very sad four year old was in trouble for getting into mommy’s makeup while he watched Sheriff Callie in his parents’ bedroom. According to this particular tiny tyrant, he was applying said makeup to his baby brother. His reasoning for playing in the makeup? Between sobs I learned that he was trying to be beautiful like mommy. He wanted Hunter to be beautiful like mommy too.
One part of me is touched that he thinks that I am beautiful. The other part of me was equally horrified. My darling boy thinks that in order to beautiful like me, he needed to put on makeup. Here I thought having boys saved me from this type of problem. Motherhood proves me wrong again.
I scooped Jaxen into my lap and emphasized that he was beautiful, handsome, gorgeous, you name it just as he is and nothing will ever change that. I held him tightly until he pushed me away and demanded real pizza, which being the excellent mother I am, got on my phone and ordered. Except I couldn’t stop thinking about his statement. Does my son think that my beauty comes from a bottle? Do I think my beauty comes from a bottle? Am I confident in my own skin?
While I do enjoy makeup (hello Ipsy subscription) and love all things girly, I’ve always thought I was doing a good job of not letting those things define me. It’s true that when I do put on a full face of makeup, I look differently, no matter how natural I keep it. I think that’s ok, though. To me, it’s like when I was a little girl and I’d play make believe in dress up clothes. There were some amazing roles that I would play. The dress up clothes would come off and I was still me. Incredible, awesome me.
In my position as a girl boss, I have a certain image I maintain. At minimum, I try not to leave the house without lipstick, either on or at least in my purse to apply after I drop the boys off at daycare. Most days it’s mascara, blush, and some bold shade of lipstick. There’s something about that combination that makes people take me more seriously (and why that is makes up an entirely different post). To my family, though, I live in ugly leggings and barely remember to wash my face. Which is the real me? Honestly, both of them are me. They are the ways I express myself in my different roles.
I know that Jaxen didn’t mean that I could only be beautiful while wearing makeup, but it does mean that he’s caught on, at a young tender age, that makeup makes mommy feel good. I try so hard to be conscience of the things that I say about myself, that I never stopped to think about the way my son perceives me. This interaction with him has probably me more aware of myself than anything else. Of course this is one of the nasty side effects of having children (and of course no one tells you this, like no one tells you that poop can be classified as a biological weapon). If I didn’t pause to think about how I’m portraying myself before, I will certainly be scrutinizing myself now.
What makes you feel the most confident?
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