Why I Don’t Tell My Daughter She’s Beautiful

When Vivvi was a baby, people constantly told me how much she looked like me. And occasionally, I looked at her and it was like looking in a mirror that reduces your age by 31 years. It took my breath away—this feeling that I was born again 31 years later and got to meet myself.

But then at around 2 years old she stretched out, lost some of her chubby cheeks, and people stopped saying it. (I have extraordinarily chubby cheeks. Like a chipmunk. In the fall. Searching for a place to store ALL of the nuts. For all of the chipmunks, everywhere.) With her stretching out, instead of commenting on our likeness, people started to comment on her beauty. (Insert chipmunk cheeks must not be beautiful joke here.) Continue reading