I have my mother’s eyes. Her soft hazel, sometimes sad, patient eyes. I’ve often wished I had darker eye brows and lashes, like my daughter, so I didn’t have to wear eye make up.
My daughter has beautiful green eyes, and beautiful, full lips. But she complains about her nose being too big. I tell her she is beautiful.
She tells me I am beautiful, and I wonder what she sees.
Many years ago, in a rebellious stage, I went without make up, even at work. Then someone described me as “that woman with no eyebrows.”
And I started wearing make up again.
I don’t remember my mother ever wearing eye make up, just lipstick. My dad always liked the natural look. He complained when I started wearing make up as a teenager, especially the blue, or green, or purple, eye shadow.
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