May 13, 2018
Her beauty routine was a single pink curler to tame her bangs, a tub of Avon moisturizing cream, a tube of lipstick, and a pink retractable lipstick brush that I was obsessed with. That was it. Moisturize the face and neck. Color the lips. A tissue to blot. Rub the tissue over the apples of cheeks for a little blush effect. Remove the roller. Run fingers through hair. Done. I would watch her like a cat watches a laser light. Enthralled. Because she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. The whole thing took about a minute and left me in wide-eyed wonder every time. She was effortless.
My beauty routine involves an entire room in my house. Drawers full of product, makeup, tools, spackle, some sophisticated magic tricks, and time. Way more than a minute. Her routine continues to this day – unchanged. And she is still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
But beauty being what it is – skin deep and fleeting – growing up I was most enthralled with her quiet sense of calm. The woman was never rattled. She seemed to float through life unaffected. Her demeanor was always pleasant and her words, although few, just kind of fell like a soft blanket no matter what she was saying.
The concept of gentleness is like an intense yoga-cardio workout for me. It’s awkward and hard. My words are not few and they can tend to fall more like an anvil, although that’s never my intention.
I was my mother’s shadow. I followed her everywhere, watched her every move, and wanted nothing more than to be just like her. But as I grew up I found out that you can’t be what you aren’t.
She is graceful. I am clunky.
She is effortless. I am like a 2,000-piece 3D puzzle that you have to re-do every day.
She is quiet and demure. I am whatever the most opposite things of those traits are.
She is tiny and petit. My skeleton is a size 12 and everything just gets bigger from there.
But I love her, and I love me. And I love that God saw fit to bring these two opposites together for this brief, fleeting time on earth to brighten each other’s worlds.
She is the best her, and she helped me become the best me by loving, accepting, and being there for me through it all. If it’s possible for me to be anything like my Mother in any way at all, may it be in this way - always.
Happy Mother’s Day, Marilyn Pagni.