Felicitations Newsletter #4
Stuff about being a mom and beauty. 1/2 of you won't be interested so just read this for the links, k?
I lie down next to my now-four-year-old, Calliope, to put her to sleep almost every night. I have done it ever since she was 8 months old, when she essentially started blackmailing me to get her out of her crib by gnawing on the railing like a woodchuck. I co-slept with her for another year after that, then moved her into a Montessori-style floor bed when she was almost two. I’ve never had the heart to sleep train her, and if she asks for “just one more book, mama”, we’ll keep going for another hour sometimes before calling it a night.
Yeah, I’m that kind of parent.
As we lay in bed next to each other last week (after we went through the process of arranging all her plastic dragons on pillows beside her — Their names are Godzilla, Humbaba and Tiamat. Named by her, I promise!), she stared up at the ceiling and started touching her face in the darkness. After a moment she said, “My eyelashes are beautiful.” Another moment. More touching. “My eyebrows are beautiful too.”
I didn’t respond. I was speechless, to be honest. And I didn’t want to spoil the moment. So I just lay there and silently whispered to myself with rabid mama bear fierceness, “Felicia. You can never let her lose those feelings in her whole entire life.”
Her words struck a nerve because, and I am being totally honest here, I never look into a mirror and think, “Wow, you look HOT today, Day!” I’ve learned over the years to fight back against that nasty voice in my head that criticizes everything about my outsides, but it’s SO difficult to constantly self-correct. Lack of self-confidence is kind of my calling card as a person. (And perfectionism. And a touch of body dysmorphia from ballet. Gotta catch ‘em all!) No matter how many professionals have styled me or given me fancy clothing or lashes or fake hair, I’ve never WANTED to show myself off. In fact, it’s when I’m dressed my most fancy that I feel my most insecure. Walking down a red carpet, I’m always convinced that a seam will rip, or that a booger is hanging out my right nostril. Or that other people will simply be able to see through all of it and peg me as what I truly am: A person with a ton of flaws hidden beneath a layer of pretty wrappings. Desperately hiding who she really is.
I don’t share this to elicit sympathy. (Although thanks, it’s totally appreciated!) I share it because I think a lot of us have been trained to tell ourselves constant unkind thoughts, especially about our looks. There’s a superstitious sense that being confident is the best way to invite ridicule and set yourself up for failure, especially as a woman. Better to be modest and unseen than a target for mockery, right? (BTW, the internet reinforces this 100000% percent. We’re never wanting for dudes who show up uninvited in comments and tell us we have a face like a camel, right?)
Perhaps that’s why Covid has treated me so well, mentally. Being taken off the stage of scrutiny and allowing myself to be okay with baggy-sweats and tangled drug-store-dyed pink hair has been such a relief. (Not auditioning and being rejected for my looks 10 times a week probably has something to do with it too, lol. If I do more acting in the future, I hope I can just play urchins. Or craggy witches. Either/or will suit me fine!)
Back in bed, as Calliope drifted off to sleep, my mind raced about how I could protect her from it all. Protect that wonderful sense of loving herself. Where did she learn it, I wondered? Did I teach it to her? Or is it inherent in all of us and we just…lose it. And if so…what made ME lose it so badly?!
I started spiraling, desperately thinking of ways to keep my baby safe. How could I make sure her attitude of self-love stuck, and wouldn’t be ripped away by jerk classmates, or by a world that emphasizes artifice over natural beauty, or by a culture that tells women and girls that their self-worth is completely based on how highly their outsides are valued by men? (Er…feminist much, Felicia?)
I decided the most logical thing: We would move to a deserted island! With no media. With no books I didn’t screen beforehand. With no internet or TikToc or whatever the cool kids might use in the future holograph-wise to impose that homogenized sense of beauty on the world. I mean, it would suck to be far away immediate Thai take-out, but I would do it, if I could just keep Calliope’s confidence safe and secure!
But then I recalled an incident during our trip to the redwoods last week. We were examining tiny pine cones on the ground and I pointed out they needed to fall away from the original tree in order to grow. “If they don’t get out of the mama tree’s shadow, then they can’t get enough light to grow as strong and tall as they can. And that’s all the mama tree wants for her babies. To be tall and strong and as big as her.”
So back in bed, I teared up. Because I realized that I can’t protect her from it all. I can’t keep her ignorant. That wouldn’t be as bad as criticizing her constantly, but it would be a different kind of bad, really. I decided that the only thing I could do is do what I am already doing — Love her unconditionally. If I’m there for her, through all her stages of growth as she moves away from me, I just can hope that she’ll be able to grab all the sunshine she can and grow big and tall. And somehow find the strength inside to ignore the outside winds that try to blow her down.
After all, I will always be there to tell her she’s beautiful, inside and out. Or just silently lie beside her and support her in telling herself that very thing.
Interesting Links:
I want to share a recipe every newsletter! This baked oats recipe was a real crowdpleaser this week…for me. (Calliope only eats white crustless bread lol.)
I just learned about “letter locking” this week, which was how long ago people “encrypted” their correspondence. This website has info and videos and more.
They just discovered the oldest sauropod yet and named it after a paleontologist whose nickname is “El Ninja”. So that’s cool.
This about-to-open museum devoted to Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tales makes me want to fly to Denmark immediately.
Personal Links (Also Interesting):
My Twitch streaming schedule is HERE. If you haven’t see The Guild play Among Us together, well, I’d recommend dropping by at 7pm PST on Sundays!
Felicitations and Undressing Bridgerton both have new podcast eps up everywhere you get podcasts.
I’m working on a lot of writing projects. I’m sticking that here to let you know that I’m not just playing video games all the time. Promise, mom!
Lastly, subscribe to this newsletter so you get it in your inbox!
See you in two weeks, and on my Discord channel in between for chatting and friendship! <3
oxox
Felicia
Thank you for sharing your vulnerability with us. I thought I was alone in never feeling “hot” even on my best days, despite compliments I might receive. I always mentally respond with, “it’s just the makeup”. My children (2 and 4) know they’re beautiful and I’m going to reinforce that as long as I can. I want them to love themselves. <3
That was beautifully written. I'm crying.