Me and My Mutter

Dear Friends,

Sometime ago, I discovered that I had become my mother. Although I’m sure the transformation had been gradual, the realization was shocking. It took me a while to get used to my new reality. Catching my reflections in the mirror, unsolicited advice I gave my children, unfamiliar practices turning into habits, like becoming skeptical, or criticizing young people for their choice of music and clothes.

Today, I realized that I’ve become my grandmother! 

Some of us follow in our ancestor’s footsteps willingly, and some of us live their drama mindlessly.  

My grandmother never went out unless she looked “right.” As she grew older, it took her longer and longer to achieve the look that she wanted the world to see. Eventually, in her eighties, ten years before she passed away, she stopped going out altogether. For as long as I can remember, my grandmother had aesthetic issues. In hot sizzling days of summer, she covered her arms because they were flabby. She played peek-a boo with her strands, covering one balding spot only to expose another. She spent hours drawing her eyebrows because she had shaved them when she was young and they had never grown back. I can still hear her voice, “Lili, pay attention, do they look even?”

“Of course, Mutter dear.” Sometimes I lied, just to get her out the door. 

Now, every morning, as I pencil in my faded tattooed eyebrows, powder my rapidly thinning hairline and adjust my strands from one side to the other, I feel guilty for having trivialized my grandmother’s concerns. As upsetting as it is, I end up making faces at myself in the mirror, laughing hysterically and calling her name.

When people say I look good, I think to myself, of course I look good (still). Do you know how much work has gone into covering up every flaw, and enhancing the very few assets I’ve left! 

More difficult than achieving the “ right” look, is hiding my obsession to look “ right” from my granddaughters. I really don’t want them to become “look” obsessed and miss out on living, because of their grandmother’s foolish aesthetic standards.