Growing Up With a Gorgeous Mother Made Me Hate The Beauty
I didn’t realize how beautiful my mum was until I wasn’t around eleven or twelve. For me, she was just my mum. Kind, loving, caring, and sometimes angry. Being pretty and gorgeous meant nothing for me, and I didn’t notice someone’s appearance. I saw others by the way they were. Most of them were sweet to me as the waitress from the local bar, who gave me extra cream on my hot chocolate. Some were rude as the older neighbor on the second floor who always complained when we were playing under his window.
My mum had me at sixteen, so she always seemed like my older sister. But on top of that, she looks like a model. Grandma and I enjoy watching photo albums when I come to her house. In all the photos, you can observe my mother’s beauty. As a kid, she had curly blond hair and blue-green eyes with long eyelashes. She seemed like the kid model who smiles at you from Gap commercial with shiny white teeth.
When my grandma turns the pages to the teenage pictures of my mum, you notice how she is growing up into a stunning woman. She was a dancer, town goddess, and the best student in her high school. She could get in any university with a full paid scholarship.
