Beauty and the Beach

It's been hot and humid here in Auckland. I feel we are in the eye of the storm. I am taking time with my daughters, making the most of the lazy, hazy summer days whilst we can.

This morning they made orangeade and offered it out the front in return for donations to stray cats. It was so wholesome and sweet. They raised $22.42.

We went to the beach to celebrate and cool off. The girls mucked about in the shallows, oblivious to two young women in tiny bikinis posing to take Instagram shots of each other. They were beautiful and glowing. They must have taken 100s of photographs. They sat behind me reviewing them and discussing which ones they would post.?

‘Urgh. I don’t like myself in that one. My face is sooo gross.’

‘Oh. My. God. I love your cheekbones in this one. They are Epic.’

Etc.

Then they talked about which photoshop app would be best for improving their complexions and bodies. How best to enlarge their thigh gaps and shrink their upper arms. They were completely and utterly absorbed in themselves as you only can (and must) be at that age. They didn’t notice the two gawping Council guys who seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time fixing a bin just behind them. And they certainly weren’t looking at the ocean and the sunlight dancing on it with Rangitoto in the distance.?

I watched my daughters mucking about in the water. Legs akimbo. Sea snot. Tangled hair. Goggles skew-whiff. Diving for rocks, laughing.

I wondered how they will be in 10 years. Will they care about thigh gaps? I hope not with all of my heart. But I cannot know how their journeys will unfold and what will I need to learn in order to parent them.?

I wanted to turn round and tell the young women that they were already perfect, flawless and to celebrate and enjoy every moment of that radiance. And not to get attached to it. And to look up and see the beauty that is everywhere because it’s always available to you long after your own has transformed into something else.?

But I didn’t of course.?

Partly because my youngest came haring up the beach screaming ‘MUM I NEED A POO RIGHT NOW…..RIGHT NOW!!!’

Also because what do I know, really.?

After a 3 month lockdown followed by a languorous summer break, the standards of my beauty regime may have slipped a little. My one concession is occasionally plucking the stray hair that grows under my chin. I really should book a haircut but haven't mustered up the enthusiasm yet. I also know I am much fitter and stronger than I was 2 years ago. And most days I think I look pretty good, on the whole, all things considered, in a flattering light.

Though, this morning a mustard pot fell out of the fridge and landed on my middle toe. It’s gone black and I can barely walk on it. It really hurts. I think it’s broken.

So with all that in mind I kept my thoughts to myself, limped off the beach in my very unskimpy one-piece, and took us for ice-cream.?

I had a Magnum Double Caramel Ego. It was Epic.