Genetic dice
So when Cook and I, lo these many years ago, were playing the annoying parents-to-be game ("I hope the baby has my nose and your chin!"), I kept a secret list of traits of mine* that I hoped the baby didn't get. My finger-crossing efforts didn't pan out,** and she didn't escape them all. I can't deny it any longer. I won't even begin to discuss the personality traits in question, but these are the physical traits she got:
1) Keratosis pilaris, in which your hair follicles get plugged up, and your skin gets all rough and red-spotted. I'm not sure of this, but it looks like Dutch has it too. This is a pretty common skin condition, though I have it more grievously than most people, because I have so many more hair follicles than 99.99% of the human population. Which leads me to...
2) HAIR!!!! I am the hairiest woman I've ever seen, and I hate it. Hate it. Dutch is showing distinct signs of fuzziness, though a good fairy of some sort did bless her with the mitigating kindness of at least having lighter hair, so I can hold out hope that she will resemble an orangutan rather than a gorilla.
Anyway, I didn't intend to whine so much, but it does kind of bum me out that Dutch will experience in her life some of the things that have made me self-conscious about my appearance. It's not easy being female in this world,*** and I dread the day when she begins to feel bad about herself. Yeah, it's totally superficial of me to feel that way, and I should be concentrating on drilling into her that we are all beautiful and that she should express her individuality and so on, instead of being anxious about her ability to look just like everyone else. But I have keen (as in sharp hurtful blade, not as in spiffy and nifty) memories of how utterly awful it felt to be 13 years old, and how deeply I yearned to look just like everyone else.**** I wouldn't wish that feeling on anybody.
Today Dutch and I walked past the sports field on campus at 7:45 AM, and saw the women's basketball team working out. We stopped to watch for a minute, and I found myself earnestly lecturing Dutch about how tall and strong and fast they were, and how they were making their bodies healthy, etc. Since she's likely to be a very tall, bumpy-skinned, hairy teenager, I think the positive messaging should start immediately. Anyway, they were gorgeous, as women athletes somehow inevitably are, so she was impressed. She then helpfully pointed out to me that I am not tall, strong, or fast. I intend to inform her that the positive messaging has to go BOTH WAYS!!!
* Yes, and Cook's too - I admit it.
** Damn you, Alemonia! DAMN YOU!!!!
***No, it's not easy being male either, you poor things.
****I can reassure myself that at least Dutch will go probably through her adolescence more fashionably dressed than I did, since she's already more fashionable than I have ever been.
1) Keratosis pilaris, in which your hair follicles get plugged up, and your skin gets all rough and red-spotted. I'm not sure of this, but it looks like Dutch has it too. This is a pretty common skin condition, though I have it more grievously than most people, because I have so many more hair follicles than 99.99% of the human population. Which leads me to...
2) HAIR!!!! I am the hairiest woman I've ever seen, and I hate it. Hate it. Dutch is showing distinct signs of fuzziness, though a good fairy of some sort did bless her with the mitigating kindness of at least having lighter hair, so I can hold out hope that she will resemble an orangutan rather than a gorilla.
Anyway, I didn't intend to whine so much, but it does kind of bum me out that Dutch will experience in her life some of the things that have made me self-conscious about my appearance. It's not easy being female in this world,*** and I dread the day when she begins to feel bad about herself. Yeah, it's totally superficial of me to feel that way, and I should be concentrating on drilling into her that we are all beautiful and that she should express her individuality and so on, instead of being anxious about her ability to look just like everyone else. But I have keen (as in sharp hurtful blade, not as in spiffy and nifty) memories of how utterly awful it felt to be 13 years old, and how deeply I yearned to look just like everyone else.**** I wouldn't wish that feeling on anybody.
Today Dutch and I walked past the sports field on campus at 7:45 AM, and saw the women's basketball team working out. We stopped to watch for a minute, and I found myself earnestly lecturing Dutch about how tall and strong and fast they were, and how they were making their bodies healthy, etc. Since she's likely to be a very tall, bumpy-skinned, hairy teenager, I think the positive messaging should start immediately. Anyway, they were gorgeous, as women athletes somehow inevitably are, so she was impressed. She then helpfully pointed out to me that I am not tall, strong, or fast. I intend to inform her that the positive messaging has to go BOTH WAYS!!!
* Yes, and Cook's too - I admit it.
** Damn you, Alemonia! DAMN YOU!!!!
***No, it's not easy being male either, you poor things.
****I can reassure myself that at least Dutch will go probably through her adolescence more fashionably dressed than I did, since she's already more fashionable than I have ever been.
Comments
stella has my (head) hair, which right now is really cute. but in 10 years i am sure she will look like a water buffalo just like i did until i learned that bangs (without a blow drier and fixative)do not look good on wavy hair.