Like many other girls, I have a complicated relationship with my mother. Starting in the fifth grade, I experienced this intense urgency to despise my mom. In middle school, everything she did, every word she spoke, and everything she wore was embarrassing. My mom was always too loud, feisty, aggressive, and outspoken. She was never fashionable enough, feminine enough, kind enough, or invisible enough. For many years, my greatest fear was becoming anything like Becky.
And yet, in high school, I found myself leaning on her more and more with each passing day. She was my confidant, my source of advice, my fitness role model, and often my only friend.
Now, years beyond my “I hate my mom” phase, I realize how normal it is to somehow simultaneously hate and love your mom more than anyone or anything. From my mother’s stubbornness to her hyperactive teaching methods, to her obsession with health, everything I once hated about Becky is now everything that makes me love her.
Everything I once despised about my mother is everything
I now see in myself.
Her flaws are now my greatest strengths.
Although I once fought it, I have never been more prideful to have evolved into a younger version of my mother.
Like my mom, I refuse to allow anyone to silence me. We both are really good at pissing people off, but are always the first person to stand up for ourselves or our loved ones. I used to roll my eyes when my mom argued with my volleyball coaches, banned certain classmates from entering her home, or when she marched up to her boss and told him what she really thought about him. Now, I find myself doing the same things: understanding the method to her outspokenness, no matter how embarrassing it must have felt.
Like my mom, I know I am smarter than most people. I used to hate how sure she was of her strengths, especially when she stood in front of crowds of people and bragged about her expertise. I was so accustomed to women allowing other people to outshine them — even if they were more intelligent, qualified, and experienced than their competitors — that witnessing my mom reclaim her power angered me. My mom is a genius, overqualified for every position she has ever held, and such a good leader; the only difference between her and other women with the same skills is that my mom knows her worth and goes after what she wants because she is smarter than anyone in any room she walks into. I hope I become even a fraction as powerful and confident as my mother when I grow up.
Like my mom, I value fitness and health above all. She used to run for hours, groan loudly while stretching on the living room floor, and sneak lentils into what seemed like all of our dinners. I hated when she would make me press on her feet to help her stretch or film her videos when she became certified as a yoga teacher. But now, as I suit up to teach a fitness class or make a playlist for my next workout, I realize I am the same way. Growing up with a female role model who ran marathons, challenged teenage boys to push up contests, and lived in workout clothes has shaped me into the personal-trainer, group fitness instructor, and weight-lifting badass I am now. Similar to her outspokenness, intelligence, and confidence, I have also inherited my mom’s dedication to exercise and nutrition.
When I brush my hair in the morning, I hear my mom scolding me about the matted piece of hair I gave myself because I refused to use a hairbrush as a kid. As I apply powder on my face, I can smell the makeup my mom put on every day before work. I smile to myself when I open my tube of eyeliner because after years of her teasing me for being terrible at using eyeliner, I finally know how to put it on. Finishing my morning routine, I open my eyes and for a split second I see my mother. I spot her natural beauty and her big blue eyes. I glance up and down at my own face, and even when I convince myself it’s me, I still spot the resemblance between her and I.
In every picture I take, every sweater I pull over my head, and every streak of mascara on my eyelashes, I see my mother. Becoming a woman has taught me to love my reflection more each day because I look so much like my mom.
I am my mother’s daughter through and through, and it only makes me love her more. Thank you for being my idol — especially when I didn’t want to see you in a positive light — because you have helped me become the woman I am today. I love you, Mama.