I have a confession to make… I’m a dance mom.
As the result of certain dance moms on reality TV programs, one almost needs to admit this in a whisper. My youngest daughter is a dancer, and has been since the time she was 3. I didn’t put her into dance lessons so I could dress and paint her up like an adult. Trust me, I’m hanging onto her childhood with a death grip these days. I put her into dance so she could learn grace and have a greater connection to the strength of her body.
Now that being said, over the course of the years, I have come to realize she looks forward to the makeup and hair more then she does the actual process of performing on stage! This has nothing to do with me, and how I approach beauty and everything to do with her and her personality.
This week was dance photos, so it was time to pull out my bag of tricks. It involves the hair gel, clips, a fake hair piece and make-up.
And so a metamorphosis occurs at my kitchen table each June, and my daughter is transformed into a beautiful creature I hardly recognize. She giggles, prances and flips her long curly hair around as I stand there wondering at what lessons this exercise is teaching my daughter.
I was in awe of her beauty and poise as she posed for these images, but my heart sang when we returned home from the formal photos and the first thing she proclaimed was, “I need to go upstairs and wash this guck of my face!” I let out a slow sigh of relief realizing I could hang onto my little girl for just a bit longer.