My daughter is 15 and I have already been the recipient of her not so discreet reminders that she is not my little girl anymore (or ANYONE else’s for that matter). I can NO LONGER choose any clothes, backpacks or school supplies without her written consent and input. She has very definite opinions about her likes and dislikes and try as I might to sway her to my way of seeing the world- girlfriend has got her own view and take on this planet. This has become even more clear on our last shopping jaunt for the quintessential dress for a sweet sixteen and I have been schooled on the fact that OUR TASTES differ ( a bitter pill- but nonetheless ONE I must swallow).
Which brings me to the sweet, Miley Cyrus aka Hannah Montana, the doe eyed, brunette Daddy’s girl whose biggest rebellious streak was wearing that platinum blonde wig– who is now clearly ready to move on- or at least that would appear to be the case based on all her tattoos, piercings and the chopping off of her trademark locks.
I get it Miley really I do. I was once a strapping young doe myself itching to unshackle myself from the good girl image my mother was so intent on me emblazoning for all the world to see and acknowledge via my appearance. So I did what any other self-respecting blonde haired 17 year old would do- I bought a box of black dye and dyed my hair. But I have to say- it didn’t bestow me with that magical sense of vindication or new identity I so desperately wanted- rather with hair that turned kinda orange in the sun ( not the good kind) and well- it would be years until I realized that change came from inside and had very little to do with the outside.
For the record I am NOT anti-tattoo, piercings or short hair– I just don’t want my kids to revert to these things without at least consulting me and having an in-depth understanding about the permanence of such decisions.
So to my two sweet little kidlets- this is my open letter to you- and especially to my feisty redheaded daughter- PLEASE don’t mess with the natural beauty so divinely bestowed upon you. I hear you- I will listen to you, you just need to communicate with me– You have my attention. You don’t need to make sure I’m listening by carving up your body, permanently inking it or hacking off all your hair. I’m your mother I’m always listening.