When my daughter was ...hm... sixteen, she got her tongue pierced illegally and without my permission (which I would never have given). So I'm driving to my mothers and the kids are in the backseat chattering and I see a flash of metal in her mouth. I slammed on the brakes and pulled over the car and leaped out and whipped the back door open (after all, this is a holiday meal at MY MOTHER's house) and I'm realizing something has happened behind my back. She won't open her mouth so I "help" her, and there it was, a tongue ring. Her defense was poor, and my son tried to intervene, but I threw down the MOM card and all of the world heard me shouting that "I" had made that body and that it had taken me nine months and because she likes to be late, I had to wait on her an extra freaking thirty days. So that made the tongue MINE and the least she could have done was ask permission. (I'm sure you can imagine this.) After all of the guilt and anger dissipated we continued on to have a holiday meal with the family and the conversation was finished hours later along with a sentencing of grounding when we were back home.
Today I was looking at a photo my daughter took of her ear, and was reminded of my ridiculous outburst and responded to her photo with a fairly brief note about how I'd made that ear, and how beautiful it was, and the pores, I'd made those too, and the hair. I'd made it all and it was beautiful. Somewhere inside of me I laughed a soft laugh and I was prideful and I was glad I was able to have turned an old situation that was ridiculous into a new memory for her.
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Love is all you need.
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