five. going on fifteen. and back again.

she stood on the bathroom stool.
mostly silent.
fingers caressing the end of a curl.
stood still as the beak of the curling iron molded her long locks into loose waves.
curl after curl, she stood.
mostly silent.

her words, quietly spoken, made my fingers stumble over the hot curling rod in my hands.
stopped the rhythmic open and close and the smell of heated hair.
"mommy, why is my tummy so fat?"

my darling daughter is not fat. far from it.
and I am not delusional (one of those mothers that can't see how unhealthy their child truly is...).
she stands with an arch in her back.
her tummy pokes out a bit.
not fat. far from it.

but where did she learn it?
why did she notice?
and most of all, why did it bother her so?

composure gathered, I answered her.
encouraged her.
reminded her God made her beautifully HER.
helped her see her healthy body and how strong her muscles made her.

again. she was mostly silent.

then, suddenly, five again. not fifteen anymore.
tears welling in her eyes, she asked:
"mommy? what if when I get big like a grownup, I don't want to live away from you?"

oh my dear heart.
you can live with me forever and a day if you want.
my sweet baby girl.

my sweet...
beautiful...

helpful...
compassionate...

outgoing...
ferocious...

kind...
vivacious...

sparkly...
amazing...

passionate...
colourful...

joyful...
little lady...

...baby girl.
you are five.
so big.
yet still so little at the same time.

I love watching you grow...
to marvel at the young lady you're becoming.

always remember:

it's your heart that makes you beautiful.