Reading Time: 4 minutes

 

Hey.

So–I was thinking of you. Every month I get a little excited when that one women’s magazine pops in my mailbox. Your brother brought it in to me last week. It’s a frivolous happiness, just one that keeps me posted on the latest trends, gives me good ideas, and, let’s be honest, keeps me from getting frumpy.

But every now and then, there’s an article that lifts my eyebrows. Sometimes the frou-frou just gets too obvious. This month, I found one that I might cut out so you don’t accidentally find it. But instead, I’ll tell you about it.

I found out I need not only a beautiful face and a neck that does not resemble a wattle; I also need beautiful hands. I need to apply special anti-wrinkle and anti-spot treatments to my hands. Because my hands should agelessly resist the natural effects of the sun and gravity and life. They should not look my age.

This brought back another conversation with a group of friends a few weeks ago. Turns out there’s a new product that can actually make your eyelashes grow for the low price of $150 per 5 mL (that’s one heck of a teaspoon). Vogue tweeted, “Lashes are the new breasts. Women are obsessed with getting a bigger, better pair.” This is so without mascara, you can look great. Because, I’m getting the idea, I should look great with or without mascara.

Just like I should now look tanned, but not by being in the sun. Like I should have great abs even after I have a baby. Like my dog needs a Halloween costume. And like all of you kids should have a Pinterest-worthy birthday party every year, because great parties are a sign of great parenting and truly happy children.

(Should I be adding “mental stability” to my list?)

It took me a bit to think about this letter graciously. (Maybe the jury’s still out.) Because when I first heard about the eyelashes thing, I may have thought something not-so-gracious, like, Americans have too much money.

Because the average income of the Ugandans I know is currently $613 per year.  I thought of your friends who’d come over after school, the ones in one-room houses and their folks are trying to buy stuff like food or send their kids to school. Still, I don’t think guilt should ideally be the reason we help the poor or give. I hope you know that already.

But shouldn’t those realities still maintain a seat at the table of our common sense?

It’s why I’m writing you.

The Shoulds

‘Cause here’s the thing, as I started thinking about these soon-to-be-spotted 30-something hands. We’re getting pretty distracted here from the things that matter.

Societies for thousands of years had no mirrors, no magazines seeding discontent and self-consciousness. When they were out in the sun, they got sun spots. When they grew older, their faces looked older. They raised kids and worked and sat around with friends at night, and their hands got all farmer-ish like your grandpa’s. But they weren’t running around for sunless tanner or to finance $150 for 3 millimeters of longer, fuller lashes. Or comparing their belly fat with a friend’s. So I wonder if they were happier.

We have more leisure time and more excess money than any culture before us. And what we need are…eyelashes?

What I don’t need to give you are more “shoulds”. (Sounds like you’re getting plenty–and I hope you know which ones to roll your eyes at.) But what I want to say to you is this: Please remember life is more than this.

Life is more than yourself and your selfies. Your time and energy and money are worth so much more than the now or making sure you look perfect at any given moment. (It’s a little sad to me that we’re missing out on some natural beauty because our beauty is now…supernatural. Airbrushed, even.)

Can I tell you something you’ll want to hear?

You are more than your hands and your neck, so much more than your face and your breasts. You are more than your body type. You are more than a $5000 sofa and whether or not you have a cute toothpick holder, both of which that magazine recommended to me in the last two months.

You were made for more than this.

Wanted: Ugly Hands

So here’s the thing: You and me–let’s be okay with ugly hands. Not just because you said no to a bunch of beauty products you don’t need (and maybe rolled your eyes. Atta girl). I want you to have hands that served people all your life. Have the kind of hands that need to be sanitized because changing diapers isn’t above you. Let them need a little lotion because you’ve washed dishes in a place where you can’t easily get a dishwasher, or because you made a meal for someone who could use a pick-me-up. Sure, have fun painting those nails. But every once in awhile, let the cuticles get a little rough because you took the time to listen to a friend instead, or read a kid a book, or pushed him on a swing even if you forgot sunscreen, or got out and planted something and felt the dirt. Grow a callus from writing notes to encourage or thank someone. Let those fingers clench every once in awhile because someone else without a voice isn’t getting justice.

Let’s you and me let our hands be just a little uglier because we took your time loving someone else and living for something more than us.

Love,

Mom

 

 

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